The Java Parlour
by Socket-52
Summary: AU. Franky owns 'The Java Parlour', a successful coffee shop. One day a blonde forensic psychologist drops in and turns her head.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I borrowed a line from the Berena fandom because nothing else seemed to fit. I would apologise but if you haven't discovered Berena, do. You'll thank me later!

 **Chapter 1**

At 5am on Monday morning Franky's alarm buzzed. She reached out sleepily and hit the snooze button. She rolled onto her back and groaned. Then stretched out and enjoyed the warmth of her bed before the mayhem of the day began. The alarm sounded again. Franky kicked the sheets off her and swung her legs over the side of the bed to rest on the wooden floorboards. She switched the alarm off and rubbed her face.

She dragged herself to the bathroom, grabbed a quick shower and dressed in dark blue jeans and a simple white crop top. She tied her dark hair back as she made her way downstairs to open-up _The Java Parlour._ She still thought of it as her Mother's. Every corner was chockfull with her, it filled Franky with warmth and the occasional pang. Since her Mother passed last year it had been hard. Especially for Tess. Franky had inherited the coffee shop and decided to keep it on. Some mornings Franky didn't know what she'd do if she didn't have the routine of _The Java Parlour._ It kept her sane. Gave her focus.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the shop, she flipped the lights on and the homely café flooded with light. The decor was warm colours, oversized comfortable furniture and paintings hanging on the walls drawn by her Mum. Vibrant watercolours of local areas she had loved.

Stifling a yawn Franky started-up the oven and switched on the coffee machine, which lurched and whirred into life. The stillness of the early hour was disrupted by the heady smell of fresh coffee.

Franky always opened-up. She liked the routine but it was also when she missed Tess the most. At _The Java Parlour_ they freshly baked their own goods. She and Tess used to cook together and as she folds the flour, salt, sugar and yeast of the croissant mix in a ceramic bowl, she misses Tess's lively chatter. But Tess was grown-up now. Off at Uni, the world at her feet, her first serious boyfriend, a bright future ahead and Franky couldn't be more proud. She just wished their Mum could have lived to see what an amazing young woman Tess had become.

With the pastries in the oven, Franky unbolted the doors - French windows that opened out onto the street - and set-up the outside tables.

Boomer, her top barista (or _Poseidon of the Pot_ as she was affectionately known by the staff) arrived. Grumbling about shit public transport. She put her things in the back, slipped on an apron, turned the radio on and began prepping the counter.

"Hey, is it true you can get preggers from spunk on your skirt?" she asked.

Franky was writing the specials on the menu board by the door. She stopped and glanced at Boomer over her shoulder. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Some chick on the bus was on her phone sayin' she gave her boyfriend a handjob, got his spunk on her skirt and was worried she'd get knocked-up cos of it."

Franky laughed. "Na, that's not how it works."

Boomer nodded and then returned to her chores, wiping the counter down and setting out the display pastries. A moment later she leaned on the counter. "Hey, can you get preggers from - "

"Booms, it's not even 8am. I can't be talkin' about reproductive organs and guys junk this early in the morning, alright? Have a coffee, take a chill pill and we'll talk about it later, alright?"

"Yeah, sure, sorry."

"No worries." Franky said and Boomer grinned back, then got stuck into the morning's tasks with a cheerful whistle.

The morning rush began and Franky had a smile on her lips, a cheeky remark on her tongue and a sparkle in her eye for every customer. The regulars loved it. Used to her sharp and racy wit, they sparred and flirted back as she brought a ray of sunshine into their day.

Franky was in full-charm mode when she saw her. Blonde, petite, intense and gorgeous. She's new; Franky would have remembered that face. The blonde is carrying a leather briefcase and wearing an elegant and tightly-fitting pinstriped skirt suit. Her hair was sculpted in a classy up-do. She's all seriousness and crisp lines. Franky gets the urge to grab her attention, wants to ruffle those perfectly fashioned edges.

As the blonde neared the front of the queue she gazed at the coffee menu on the blackboard behind the counter. Piercing blue eyes sifting through the options, her nose scrunched up in concentration and she bit her bottom lip unconsciously. The image flooded Franky's chest with warmth and set-off a low hum in her belly.

Franky turned her most disarming smile on the newcomer. Eyes twinkling. "Morning, what can I get you that's hot and strong?"

The woman blinked for a moment, the flirty insinuation not lost on her. She tilted her head inquisitively. "I'll have a large double shot full-fat cappuccino please."

"Oh, one of those days is it?" Franky asked sympathetically.

The blonde nodded. "Afraid so."

"Drink in or takeaway?"

"Takeaway please."

Franky picked up a pen and a takeaway cup. "What's your name?"

The blonde looked momentarily thrown.

"We write it on the cup. Helps avoid mixing-up orders," Franky explained.

"Bridget," the blonde replied.

She didn't look like a Bridget. It was far too conservative. Franky grinned as she scrawled a name across the cup, called out the order and handed the cup to Boomer.

Bridget ran her eyes along Franky's outstretched arm, noted the toned muscles and tattoos, and swallowed hard. She glanced at the name tag on the brunette's shirt. _Franky._ She wondered if it was short for Francesca or Frances.

Franky turned back to Bridget to catch her staring at her chest. "Anything else whet your appetite?" she teased.

Bridget blinked, her eyes shooting back up to Franky's face, a blush rising up her neck.

"We have a delectable selection of pastries," Franky suggested, somehow managing to make it sound indecent.

Bridget's tongue darted out and she licked her bottom lip nervously. Her eyes skimmed the mouth-watering display of freshly baked goods; mini lemon meringue cakes, salted caramel truffles, chocolate éclair's sprinkled with hazelnut, a pear and raspberry tart in a rich shortbread pastry with a shinny glaze, white chocolate cheese cake, croissants, an assortment of fruit danish pastries and lastly, she alighted on a basket of blueberry muffins. She seemed to mentally reprimand herself and shook her head gently. "Just the coffee please."

"You sure? You seem to be eyein' my muffins."

Bridget made a startled noise and Franky smirked. The blush on Bridget's cheeks deepened.

"Just the coffee," she said resolutely.

"Alright, if I can't tempt you… that will be $4 please."

Bridget pulled a $20 from her purse. As she handed it over her fingertips grazed Franky's palm and she felt a distinctive jolt, like electricity, shoot through her. She pulled back sharply but when she dared to look up, Franky's eyes were soft.

Franky gave Bridget her change. She slipped it in her purse and moved aside, out of the way of other customers queuing behind her.

Bridget stood at the other end of the counter, mind wondering. _Franky._ The name suited her; she had an edgy mischievous streak. Bridget imagined she was a lot of fun to hang out with. Didn't hurt that she was built like a Greek goddess. All muscles and curves. Bridget watched Franky interact with other customers. She was charismatic and clearly a serial flirt but she wasn't as full-on with them as she had been with Bridget. The blonde tried not to read too much into this. So a beautiful woman had flirted with her, so what? All it meant was that she'd been celibate too long and was reading too much into simple every-day interactions. She really needed to get a life.

Since her break-up with Michelle nearly a year ago she hadn't found time to meet anyone new or attempt the dating scene again. All her friends ribbed her about being married to her job and having a non-existent love life. _Sister Bridget_ they called her and for her birthday they'd offered to buy her a lifetime supply of batteries for her vibrator.

Bridget shook her head. This is not what she should be thinking about right now. She had to focus. Today was important.

Today she was in court. An expert witness. It was a challenging case. Dawn Cooper stood accused of the murder of her twin brother, Jeremy, but in Bridget's opinion Dawn wasn't fit to stand trial. She'd had numerous violent incidents since she was a child proving she was unstable and in need of professional help. It was hard on the family – trying to make sense of Jeremy's brutal murder was bad enough, let alone when the crime was committed by a family member. Dawn's parents had taken sides. Her father supported her and her mother refused to see her. It was a heart-wrenching situation and the parents had separated amidst the strain and tension.

It was her job to convince the court that Dawn had not been in charge of her faculties at the time of the murder, otherwise Dawn would go to trial and Bridget would have failed her.

Today she had to be alert, had to be on the ball, had to -

"Gidget," someone called.

Bridget came crashing back to the present. Franky was holding a coffee cup out to her. The blonde's brow furrowed as she stepped forward to take it.

"Bridget," she corrected.

Franky flashed her a dazzling smile. "I prefer Gidget," she said playfully.

Bridget didn't know what to say to that so she simply took the cup. She was about to turn away when Franky waved a paper bag in front of her.

"Thought you might need it today. On the house," the brunette winked.

Stunned, Bridget took the bag. She glanced inside to see a blueberry muffin. She immediately broke into a broad grin and directed it towards Franky, who seemed to melt under its radiance.

"Thank you," she said softly. Because that simple gesture, that random act of kindness had turned her potentially awful day into a good one.

"Call it an incentive, to get you to come back," Franky said.

Bridget nodded and then stepped away. Franky's eyes followed the blonde as she walked out of the door and disappeared into the crowded street; then returned her attention to the queue.

"Hey Jeff, usual?" She asked the next customer.

He nodded groggily. He was unshaved, his clothes crumpled, bags under his eyes.

"How's the baby? Sleeping through the night yet?" Franky asked.

"Not yet. Better make it a double shot espresso if I'm gonna keep awake at the office!"

"Righto!" she chirped, causing Jeff to smile.

The day hurtled forward and Franky was swept-up in the bustle of coffee shop life but thoughts of the blonde with the luminous smile and intense gaze pestered her all day.


	2. Chapter 2

Bridget didn't come to _The Java Parlour_ the next day. Or the next. Franky pushed her disappointment away. Usually when she flirted mercilessly with a woman said woman came running back for more. Bridget was clearly different - but that had been part of the attraction, hadn't it? She wasn't Franky's usual type. She had her shit together, but even so, Franky had detected the rebel beneath the calm exterior. It was compelling, the two contradictory facets. She loved a bad girl but she also admired self-possession. Franky had such poor impulse control that anyone who had it in abundance fascinated her.

The week seemed to roll by slowly and instead of her usual contentment, Franky felt restless.

Just as the morning rush died down on Thursday, Bridget walked through the door. Gone was the smart, straight-laced suit. Replaced by figure-hugging leather trousers, a low-cut shirt, denim jacket and boots. Her hair was loose; long blonde curls that bounced and shimmered. A tote bag flung casually over her shoulder and a briefcase in her other hand. Franky's tongue nearly fell out of her head.

"Hi," Bridget greeted cheerfully.

"Uh… hi," Franky mumbled, trying not to have a heart attack.

Boomer was stood beside Franky behind the counter and smirked at her friend's uncustomary ineptness. It happened so rarely she couldn't help but take the piss.

"G'day," Boomer saluted Bridget. "Excuse Franky. She's got a bad case of cat-got-ya-tongue. It's real nasty. Highly contagious. She can't speak or nothin' round hot chicks she wants to horn."

Mortified, Franky snapped out of her daze and whacked Boomer.

"Ow!" Boomer yowled and rubbed her injured arm.

"Ignore her," Franky told Bridget and then shot Boomer a deadly stare, her voice taking on a tone to match it. "Why don't ya make yourself useful out back?"

"Yeah, sure, and uh, why don't I take these with me, hey?" Boomer suggested as she lifted-up an almost full tray of chocolate éclair's. "They look like they need more icing." She took a bite out of one, nearly finishing it, mouth still full as she added. "Yeah, defo needs more icing!" and shuffled off to the kitchen, licking whipped cream off her fingers.

Franky rolled her eyes. It's a wonder she hadn't gone bankrupt.

"Your staff are certainly colourful," Bridget said with amusement.

Franky laughed breezily. "Sorry about that. Care in the community." She took a deep breath, willing her pulse to stop beating erratically. "So, a large double-shot full-fat cappuccino?"

Bridget's eyes widened in surprise. "Good memory," she remarked.

Franky regained her equilibrium and the mischievous smirk was back on her lips. "We aim to please," she said suggestively as her eyes raked over Bridget in open appreciation. "Customer satisfaction is paramount."

Bridget ignored the shiver that ran down her spine. "I think I'll have a small single-shot half-fat cappuccino this time."

"Ah, having a good day?"

Bridget grinned and tucked a strand of unruly hair behind her ear. "Yes."

She had the day off; her first chance to catch-up with patient notes all week. She hadn't wanted to stay cooped-up at home and when she'd wondered where to go, _The Java Parlour_ had immediately sprung to mind. She liked the cosy décor and laid-back atmosphere, it was nearby, convenient… and a certain brunette barista with an electric smile had been preying on her mind since that first flirtatious encounter.

"You want any melt-in-the-mouth delicacies to go with that?" Franky couldn't resist.

"Maybe later."

Just then a wiry youth, no more than 20, rushed in. He threw his bag behind the counter, out of breath. "Sorry I'm late!"

"Third time this week!"

"Some of us have lives Franky. I don't expect an old codger like you to understand!" he sassed.

"Cheeky scamp!" Franky exclaimed and chased him with a set of cake tongs.

He yelped and ducked out of her way. She chased him round the counter, then caught him in a headlock and ruffled his hair.

"Get off!" he laughed.

"Do I need to buy you a watch, Shayne?" she teased and let him go.

He grinned. "Only if it's a Rolex!" He reached for an apron, pulled it on and noticed Bridget for the first time. "Hi."

"Hi," she replied.

Franky glanced at Bridget. "I run a tight ship. We have a strict staffing policy here. Booms and Shayne are contractually obligated to mistreat me otherwise they're fired."

"Good to see they're taking their responsibilities seriously," Bridget joked.

Shayne rested his elbows on the counter and leaned forwards. "Nice threads," he remarked wolfishly as he admired Bridget's outfit.

"Thanks."

He was ogling Bridget a little too closely so Franky clipped him across the back of the head. "Oi! Go see if Boomer needs a hand in the kitchen."

"Alright," he grumbled and sloped off.

Franky shook her head in disbelief and then returned her attention to Bridget. "Kids."

They held each other's gaze, the air crackled, and then Bridget looked away, feeling self-conscious.

"I haven't made your coffee yet, have I? One small single-shot half-fat cappuccino coming up." Franky paused. "How do you want it?"

That fetching blush was back. Bridget raised her eyebrows. "Pardon?"

"In or out?" Franky asked, eyes gleaming.

Bridget almost blanched. "In. Please."

A smug grin broke across Franky's face. "Sure," and she tapped the price into the till.

Bridget handed over her money and Franky handed her the change. Their fingers brushed. There it was again, that undeniable spark. Franky felt it in every part of her body. Saw an indecipherable expression flicker across Bridget's face.

"Why don't you take a seat and I'll bring it over?"

"Okay, thanks."

Bridget picked a table by the window. She pulled a laptop from her briefcase and opened it up. She'd been so caught-up in Dawn Cooper's competency evaluation that everything else at work had been side-lined. Her mind flashed back to her testimony in court, she'd been poised and articulate but it was hard to read the judge. Had he really listened? Had she been convincing enough? Did he think her a lily-livered liberal trying to get a cold-blooded murderer off? Or that events never would have spiralled out of control if Dawn had had the right help and medication? Bridget was utterly convinced that Dawn was not a threat to herself or others and would never have hurt Jeremy in usual circumstances.

She'd asked Harlow, Dawn's solicitor, to call her when the Judge's verdict came in. It was due today. She'd already written her recommendation for sentencing should it come to that. She just hoped it wouldn't. She was confident - Harlow was as excellent defence solicitor. They'd worked together on-and-off for eight years, he frequently hired her as an expert witness on such cases and his success rate was impressively high. There was every reason to hope for the best.

Right now she wanted distraction. To keep occupied. She decided to check her email before starting on patient files so she began to skim through her inbox.

Franky set about fixing Bridget's coffee. It only took a few minutes, then she carried it over to Bridget's table and set it down carefully.

Bridget looked up at her and smiled warmly. "Thanks."

Franky glanced at the screen of Bridget's laptop. She was reading an evite to the _Sullivan Bay Garden Party_ ; an annual summer festival held in the local park. They had live music, dance, circus performers and arts & crafts. It was a fun family day out. Franky's mum used to take her and Tess when they were kids. Franky felt a bittersweet pang at the memory and tried to ignore it. No point dwelling. It wouldn't change anything.

"Are you going?" Franky asked.

"I go every year."

"Yeah? We usually do a refreshments stand – if Boomer doesn't eat all the merchandise before we get there, that is."

Bridget laughed. The sound was sweet and melodious. "Maybe I'll see you there," she said softly.

Their eyes locked. Bridget bit her bottom lip in that alluring way and Franky grinned roguishly.

"Because I said so!" exclaimed a harassed looking redheaded woman who had just walked into _The Java Parlour_ followed by her stroppy teenage daughter.

Bridget and Franky broke eye contact as their attention was immediately drawn to her.

"That's so unfair!" the teenager whined.

"Debbie, I've already told you - oh Franky!" The redhead's eyes alighted on her friend. "I'm here to collect the cake."

Unconsciously Franky brushed Bridget's shoulder with her fingertips in apology, murmuring, "Excuse me," and then moved towards Bea saying; "I'll just get it."

Franky slipped behind the counter and went to fetch the two tiered red velvet sponge cake that she'd made for Bea's parent's 50th wedding anniversary.

Bridget picked up her coffee cup and saw that, using chocolate sprinkles, Franky had written _Gidget_ on the foam of her cappuccino. She chortled to herself and sipped it, her eyes instantly fluttering shut in bliss. Franky made one mean cup of coffee. Her body instantly relaxed and she breathed deeply. Suddenly the world seemed brighter.

* * *

An hour later Bea was still propped-up against the counter telling Franky of her latest family drama, only pausing to scoff two slices of chocolate gateau. Debbie sat at a nearby table rapt in her mobile phone and sipping a fruit smoothie. In-between hearing the latest shit storm surrounding Bea's parent's anniversary, Franky kept sneaking glances at Bridget, who was busily tapping away at her laptop.

Bridget had come to the counter for another coffee but they hadn't had the opportunity to talk with Red there. Instead, Shayne had served the blonde while Franky gazed forlornly at her.

"I told Jacs' it was an accident but she won't have it. Insists I did it on purpose! Such a fuckin' drama queen. Like I'd deliberately drop a weight on her hand! It's her own fault. I told her Dad didn't want an indoor gym for his anniversary present but would she listen? No - she knows best! I mean, he's 74, what's he wanna press weights for? He nearly broke his hip gettin' out the shower last week!"

Franky snorted a laugh and shook her head. "Your sister's a grade A bitch."

"She always does this - decides that what she wants is best for everyone."

"Want me to deck her for ya?" Franky offered.

Bea laughed. "I'll get back to you on that!"

"Offer stands," Franky said giving her friend a cheeky grin. "Hey is the gormless wonder with her this time?"

"Brayden?"

"Yeah."

"Unfortunately. I'm puttin' them up, Mum and Dad didn't have room. So I'm stuck with them for a whole week," she lowered her head and thumped it against the counter top. "I'm worried I might do something drastic Franky. Like kill 'em in their sleep."

"No worries if ya do. I'll be a witness – it was justifiable homicide your honour!"

They giggled and Bea looked relieved, glad to get her woes off her chest. Talking to Franky always made her feel lighter.

Out of the corner of her eye, Franky noticed Bridget had stopped typing, closed her laptop and got to her feet.

"Hey, hold that thought – I'll be right back," Doyle promised, then hurried over to Bridget's table. She approached with a friendly smile. "Headin' off?"

"No rest for the wicked," Bridget replied, packing her laptop away.

Franky picked-up her empty coffee cup. Her eyes scanned the briefcase Bridget had just slid her laptop into. "Looks official. What do you do for a living?"

"Forensic psychologist."

Franky's eyebrows raised, impressed. "Ah, so you have a proper job."

"You have a proper job," Bridget countered.

"Serving coffee?" Franky said dismissively.

"Listening to people's problems, helping them, making them feel better about themselves."

Franky smirked. "When you say it like that I sound like a regular Mother Theresa."

Bridget's eyes were full of warmth as she smiled kindly. "You make a difference in people's lives, that's important."

For a moment Franky looked sheepish.

"Good luck with your friend," Bridget said, indicating Red on the other side of the coffee shop. "Sounds like she's got a lot on."

Franky smiled back. "Thanks and don't leave it so long between visits."

Now it was Bridget's turn to look sheepish. "I won't."

She slipped her tote bag over her shoulder, grabbed her briefcase and moved towards the door, offering Franky a small wave as she departed.

Franky felt a strange sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. This was ridiculous. She'd only met Bridget twice and yet… there was a pull between them. An unfathomable pull and she realised she wanted more. She wanted to get to know Bridget, wanted to wine and dine her, wanted to find what made her tick and more than anything, wanted to kiss her.

"Franky, you alright?" Bea called.

Franky's attention snapped back to her friend. "Yeah, course," she lied and returned to the counter.

Red had never seen Franky so distracted. She glanced over her shoulder at the cause – the retreating form of Bridget - then turned back to Franky. She ate another mouthful of gateau and smirked.

Franky looked at Bea in annoyance. "What?"

"How's your love life, Franky? Has it improved since my last visit?"

Franky rolled her eyes and threw a dish cloth at Red. "Shut up!"

"Oh, you got it bad!" and Bea's smirk widened.


	3. Chapter 3

It was late on Monday evening when Bridget next visited _The Java Parlour_. She was wearing a trouser suit, having come straight from work. She'd spent all afternoon at Harlow's office working on a strategy for Dawn Cooper's defence. The judge had decided that Dawn was fit to stand trial (the short-sighted prick). They'd carted Dawn off, holding her in remand before she went to trial.

Harlow had called Bridget into the office and they'd worked solidly for 8 hours on Dawn's defence – covering her mental state at the time of the murder. Only stopping to order Chinese takeaway. They'd worked late into the night. Bridget was exhausted and knew she should go straight home… but all that awaited her was a hungry cat, a bottle of red wine and an empty bed. She had an urge to see Franky, had an urge to be somewhere warm and inviting, somewhere that she was welcome.

She stepped into _The Java Parlour,_ thankful to find only a few customers scattered about. The lights were dim, the music soft. It had an enclosed, intimate feel. Franky stood at the counter, her hair loose, she was laughing with Boomer, her smile a welcome sight. It made Bridget's pulse spike and a feeling of rightness invade her.

She stepped up to the counter.

"I'd like to see a shark that would try!" Franky howled, then turned in Bridget's direction, her eyes dancing with mirth. As soon as her eyes settled on Bridget her grin widened. "Hey Gidge!" she greeted warmly.

Bridget grinned back. "Hi."

"What can I get ya?"

Bridget was about to answer when her mobile rang. She scrambled to get it. The caller ID said 'Harlow'. Her stomach tightened. "Sorry – I have to answer this," she mumbled, then turned her back on Franky and moved away from the counter.

Franky watched Bridget intently. Her shoulders hunched as she tried to hear the voice on the other end of her phone. She looked tired and stressed.

Bridget hovered by the door, whispering vehemently into her phone. When the call ended she collapsed into a comfy chair by the french windows. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Dawn had attacked her cell mate. Apparently she'd kicked-off, been sedated and was now being held in the psychiatric unit. Bridget had warned them – Dawn didn't like change – it unsettled her, made her prone to outbursts. Bridget's sure she hadn't meant to hurt her cell mate… but this was not going to help her case in the least.

"One large double shot full-fat cappuccino, extra frothy, just for you," came a soothing voice.

Bridget looked up to see Franky setting a coffee cup in front of her. She smiled faintly. "You don't have to keep doing that."

Franky smiled softly. "You look like you've just run the gauntlet. Least I can do."

Bridget smiled wearily. She reached out, gripped the coffee cup, held it to her nose, breathed in the heavenly scent, closed her eyes and then took a sip. She let out a deep breath, instantly feeling rejuvenated. She opened her eyes and looked up to find Franky watching her, a glimmer in her eyes.

"Better?" Franky asked gently.

"Much."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Bridget set the coffee cup down and rubbed her face. "Bad day at work. I don't want to dump that on you."

Franky sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of Bridget. Her left knee brushed Bridget's playfully. "I'm volunteerin'. Go on. I'm a good listener."

Bridget's brow creased. "I'm working on a difficult case. I've got people coming down on me on all sides."

"Sounds stressful."

"Dawn has been through so much. She's vulnerable. I was supposed to help her and I've let her down."

Franky gave Bridget a heartfelt smile. "Oh I doubt that."

Bridget locked eyes with Franky. There's a pause. Something in the air, shimmering between them, again.

"I know we've only known each other five minutes," Franky continued. "But you strike me as someone who would fight to the death for what she believes in. This girl is lucky to have you in her corner."

Bridget's lost for words for a moment because that was such a kind thing to say, because it's exactly what she needed to hear and because Franky's looking at her with such reverence.

The kitchen door slammed shut, interrupting the moment. They both looked up as Boomer emerged from the back.

Boomer had mopped the kitchen floor and scrubbed every surface of the kitchen within an inch of its life. She scooped-up the left-over croissants and mini cheesecakes from the display counter and threw them into a tupperware box which she closed and tucked securely into her bag.

"Kitchen's done. I'm off." Boomer declared as she headed for the door. "Leave you leso's to discuss your leso things. See ya tomorrow."

"Righto," Franky replied as Boomer exited.

Suddenly Franky realised that she and Bridget were alone. Somehow the rest of her patrons had managed to slope off without her noticing. The place was now filled with silence and expectation.

Bridget glanced at the clock. "I didn't realize it was so late, I'll leave you to - "

Franky put her hand on Bridget's knee to still her. "It's alright. I've still got to lock-up. Finish your coffee."

Bridget felt Franky's fingers burn through her trousers. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"Course."

They exchanged a smile, nervous and eager.

Franky stood, withdrawing her hand, making Bridget wish for further contact. Making her wonder if maybe she'd read too much into Franky's flirtation.

It had been a long weary day. So Bridget leaned back against the leather chair and relaxed.

Franky closed the French windows and pulled the blinds. She shut the door, flipped the open sign to 'closed', wiped down the tables and switched off the coffee machine. She turned off the music and flicked the main lights off. By this time Bridget had finished her coffee and stood as Franky moved towards her.

"Thanks for everything," Bridget said gratefully.

"Any time."

They stood there, in the darkness, staring intently at each other. Neither moved. Franky's eyes darted down to Bridget's lips and Bridget's eyes slipped down to Franky's easy smile. There was a lingering hesitancy. They seemed to be frozen: afraid to cross the line, afraid not to.

It's been so long since Bridget felt this, felt anything remotely this powerful. She lost her nerve and stepped away, picking-up her bag. "See you soon," she mumbled.

Downhearted, Franky nodded. She walked Bridget to the door. Wished she could just grab Bridget and kiss her but she didn't want to overstep and risk losing... whatever this was. It was special. It was delicate.

As Bridget left _The Java Parlour_ she heard the sound of Franky turning the lock and sighed internally with disappointment.

* * *

Bridget was rushed off her feet for the rest of the week. In-between court appearances, paper work, therapy sessions and evaluations she spent every spare moment thinking of Franky. Of her smoky eyes, kind voice and sexy smile… but she didn't have time to stop by _The Java Parlour_. She was determined to amend that. She couldn't be alone in this attraction, surely Franky felt it too?


	4. Chapter 4

On Saturday morning Franky's alarm went off at 5am as usual. She thumped it in annoyance – having been woken from a rather steamy dream featuring one blonde forensic psychologist. She dreamt she'd been a prison inmate and Bridget had been her psychologist. She'd managed to crack Gidge and they were going at it on her desk when the alarm had interrupted.

Franky cursed and rubbed her eyes blearily. She'd been plagued by R rated dreams of Bridget all week. Seems absence really does make the heart grow fonder (and if the Bridget in her dreams was anything to go by she most definitely had an excellent bedside manner).

Franky sat up and kicked the sheets off her. She was sweaty and turned on and very tired.

She jumped in the shower and twisted the temperature dial to the coldest setting. She stayed under the punishing spray as long as she could. She needed a clear head – it was going to be a long day.

There was a possibility that she might bump into Bridget today. At the thought a warmth suffused her body and her stomach flipped. Franky scolded herself - she hadn't seen Gidge in over week and was utterly convinced that the sexy, enticing psychologist had forgotten all about her.

So they'd shared a moment, so what? Bridget was a busy woman. She had a full-on job. Had priorities. She probably had plenty of snazzy friends to hang-out with and shitloads of snazzy places to go. Doubtlessly she hadn't given Franky a second thought since their almost kiss. The notion was like a bitter pill and Franky tried to ignore the aching pang she felt at the prospect of being insignificant to Bridget.

Franky made her way downstairs and set about making a batch of cakes and biscuits for _The Sullivan Bay Festival_. She took all her frustration out on kneading the cookie dough and the fairy cake mixture got a pretty thorough beating too. With quick and practised ease she soon had the first consignment in the oven. As she waited for the goods to bake she sat at the kitchen counter, sipped her green tea and stared out the window.

She saw the sun rise and fill the sky with stunning pink and orange hues. It brought a momentary sadness to her: a picture hung in her bedroom that her Mum had painted of this very view.

Franky felt the sun warm everything, saw the heat simmer up from the grass and roasted a batch of coffee beans, taking comfort in the familiar russet smell, trying to distract herself from melancholy recollections.

At 7am Shayne and Boomer arrived at _The Java Parlour_ to help pack things into the van she'd borrowed off Allie.

Allie Novak was her neighbour. They'd grown-up together, went to the same school and hung out with the same wrong crowd. Allie had gone a little off the rails as a teenager but after losing her girlfriend last year (who had been fatally stabbed in a mugging gone wrong) she'd moved back in with her Mum, Kaz.

Franky and Allie had renewed their tentative relationship and become firm friends in their shared grief. If Franky ever needed to borrow a drill or spout about her shitty day, Allie was there. It was hard to explain to people who had never lost someone they loved what it was like but Allie just got it.

"Shit Franky! Why'd ya cook so much? You expectin' the 40 thousand or somethin'?" Boomer complained as she hoisted the fifth batch of muffins into the back of the van.

"Na, I just know you're gonna eat half of them before we get there or drop them."

Boomer glared at her while Shayne hid a snicker and piled the last boxes of double chocolate chip cookies into the van.

"You're a real pal, ya know that?" Boomer growled, already annoyed she was up this early on a Saturday. "How 'bout trust, eh? How 'bout the benefit of the thingy, ya know?"

Franky patted her friend on the arm. "You're right, my bad."

"Yeah, well, good," Boomer said, placated.

Franky held up a giant chocolate bar and waved it under Boomers nose. "For the journey," she stated.

Boomer's eyes lit-up with delight. "I fuckin' love you!" she cupped Franky's face, kissed her forehead and grabbed the chocolate bar.

They piled into the van. Franky beeped the horn and a moment later Allie emerged from next door, still half asleep, and hurried to the back of the van where she clambered in beside Shayne and slammed the back door shut.

"All aboard?" Franky called.

"Yeah!" her comrades yelled back enthusiastically and Franky set off.

They arrived at _The Sullivan Bay Festival_ before it opened to the public. They came through the vender's entrance and were directed to their stall. Under a white marquis Franky and Boomer set-up the refreshment stand while Shayne and Allie unloaded the van.

Boomer opened a tupperware box and transferred the raisin and almond flapjacks to a tray. As she leaned across the stall to give them pride of place, she inadvertently tipped the tray at an angle and the entire contents slipped off the tray and spilled to the ground.

"Shit," she mumbled and glanced over at Franky, wide-eyed and filled with dread.

Franky glanced down at the mess on the grass and her eyes flicked up to Boomer.

"Sorry Franky!" Boomer stammered, cheeks reddening with mortification. "You said I'd stuff up…"

Franky shook her head gently. "It's alright you big sook!" she replied.

Boomer looked relieved. "Yeah?"

"I reckon we can save them," Franky declared.

Allie stopped close to her and peered down at the crime scene. "Yeah, what the eye don't see the heart can't grieve over!"

That seemed to soothe Boomer, who bent down and quickly started gathering-up the fallen flapjacks. Allie and Shayne knelt beside her to help, while Franky powered-up the urn she'd brought along to provide hot water and set-out the coffee cups.

Soon the crowds began. Families, couples and singletons all out for a day of fun. The air filled with chatter and music.

* * *

As Bridget walked through _The Sullivan Bay Festival_ she told herself she wasn't looking for Franky but who was she kidding? She was totally looking for Franky. She'd even put on a low-cut, figure hugging burgundy blouse and worn a new shade of lipstick just in case they ran into each other. She had the thrum of excitement low in her belly at the prospect of seeing the brunette barista again. Maybe she could even get her away from the stall, get her to spend some one-on-one time, maybe even lock lips… or maybe she was getting ahead of herself.

She was sure Franky felt this attraction too. Sure Franky would've kissed her the last time they'd met if Bridget hadn't been gutless.

Yes Franky was a serial flirt but something had passed between them. Something electric. They had so very nearly kissed. Bridget had thought a lot about that _almost_ kiss. More than she'd like to admit. She's whiled away many hours imagining the softness of Franky's lips, the taste of her, the warmth of her skin, the texture of Franky's hair between her fingers and the heat of Franky's breath mingling with her own.

Bridget weaved through the assortment of stalls, everything from vinyl records to wool. Her eyes constantly searching, seeking Franky out. Finally she spotted Shayne serving coffee to a couple. Saw a blonde woman reach out and rub Franky's shoulder familiarly as they passed each other and Bridget pushed her jealousy down.

She watched Franky refill the milk jug and smiled to herself, then swallowed hard and approached breezily.

"The merchandise made it then?" Bridget teased.

Franky looked up and rewarded Bridget with a luminous grin. "You could say that."

Their eyes met and their gaze lingered.

Bridget leaned her hip against the table. "So how's it going?"

"Busy," Franky replied, her eyes bright as she gazed at Bridget.

Stood at a slight distance Shayne, Boomer and Allie nudged each other in amusement as they watched the pair navigate carefully around each other.

"There's a _Divinyls_ tribute band playing next," Bridget informed her.

"Yeah?" Franky asked, not having a clue who _Divinyls_ were.

"Supposed to be good," Bridget said.

"Maybe I'll check it out," Franky replied.

"I'm heading that way now," Bridget declared.

They locked eyes. Bridget bit her lip nervously and Franky felt her heart rate soar and her mouth go dry.

"Fancy some company?" Franky offered.

"Sure," Bridget replied softly.

Franky grinned and then turned to her friends. "Booms, I'm just gonna - "

"Yeah, yeah," Boomer said. "Go listen to your sado music but don't be too long, hey. There's a word for workin' us too hard – slave labour."

Allie looked puzzled. "That's two words Booms."

Boomer glared at the blonde. "Yeah, well – shut-up!" She turned back to Franky. "I'm not gonna sue ya for workin' us too hard cos we're mates, I'm not so sure about Shayne though."

Franky glanced at Shayne who shrugged helplessly.

Franky slipped out of her apron and handed it to Allie (ignoring her knowing smirk). She stepped out from behind the stall and moved beside Bridget.

"I'll be back soon," Franky promised and the pair headed off towards the music stage at a leisurely pace.

Once alone Boomer glanced at her comrade's. "Okay, so I'm the senior member of staff. Ya know what that means?"

Allie and Shayne exchanged a blank look.

"What?" Shayne piped up.

"It means there's three important rules we have to follow, okay? Rule number one is I'm in charge."

Allie and Shayne nodded obediently.

"Rule number two is - I'm in charge," Boomer declared.

Allie and Shayne held back grins.

"Guess what rule number three is?"

* * *

Franky and Bridget navigated their way through the sun-soaked crowds. The smell of freshly cut grass, hotdogs and fried onions perforated the air. They overheard snatches of conversation as people passed them. In the distance were the strings of a band warming-up on the main sound stage.

"How have you been?" Franky asked, aiming for nonchalant but pretty sure she's missed it by a mile. She tried desperately not to stare at Bridget and her gorgeous face and flawless figure but that's a really fuckin' tall order. She hasn't seen Gidge for ages and she'd forgotten how breath-taking she was. Forgotten how her heart pounded of its own volition whenever Bridget was around and how she couldn't string a coherent sentence together.

"Good," the blonde replied.

"Is work any better?" Franky ventured.

Bridget smiled. "I'm trying not to take it personally when my clients go off the deep-end."

Franky nodded, trying to ignore the tremor she felt at being the focus of Bridget's piercing gaze and brilliant smile. "That's a good philosophy."

Their shoulders brushed accidentally, sending a shiver coursing through Bridget.

"And you?" Bridget asked as they neared the music stage and the crowd thickened.

"Can't complain."

Bridget fixed her with an unflinching stare. "I get the feeling that's your standard answer."

Franky shrugged. "It's true."

Bridget gave her a look like she didn't buy it, like she could see through all the layers Franky had carefully built-up. Right through to the anger and hope at her core.

"You can talk to me you know," Bridget said so simply and directly that Franky felt her heart undulate.

Franky suddenly felt ashamed for trying to hide anything from Bridget and this was swiftly followed by another startling thought – she didn't want to keep anything from Gidge. She wanted to be honest. It was a scary realisation but Franky never shirked her gut instinct. "Guess I'm not used to bein' on the other side," Franky teased. "I'm used to bein' the listener."

That earned her a smile from Bridget. "I don't want to put you on the spot," Bridget said carefully. "I just… thought we were friends."

"We are," Franky agreed for lack of a better way to decipher what they were to each other.

"Good," Bridget said. "If you ever want to vent, I'm here. Okay?"

She glanced at Franky, who dipped her head and then shyly met Bridget's eyes before replying, "Okay."

Bridget gently squeezed Franky shoulder, wanting a physical connection with her. She noticed Franky was staring back, sporting an intense gaze and captivating smile, which caused her heart to flutter and her palms to grow clammy. Now she was sure she wasn't alone in this attraction, but how to proceed? She didn't want to push too hard too fast but she wanted Franky to know she was interested.

Bridget's hand fell back to her side as they joined the horde gathering around the music stage and moved towards the front.

"Sometimes I miss my freedom," Franky blurted, surprising herself at her own candour.

Yes Franky had taken-on _The Java Parlour_ , yes she'd wanted to, but she'd abandoned her law degree in order to do so. Sometimes, on bad days, she wondered what she'd been thinking. Sometimes she felt like she was living someone else's life. _The Java Parlour_ had been her mother's dream. When she'd died Franky had wanted to keep it going, thinking, in her grief, that if she kept _The Java Parlour_ afloat that would somehow mean her mother had never left. Twisted logic, she knew. It didn't stop it feeling real though and she wasn't ready to let go just yet.

"Freedom?" Bridget asked gently.

"Do you ever feel stuck in a rut?" Franky asked. "Like things are so different from how you imagined they would be and there's no way out?"

Bridget sucked in a sharp breath. "Constantly."

They both grinned. Their gaze concentrated on each other: sharp and penetrating.

At that moment a band came onstage, the opening music chords struck-up and the crowd around them cheered.

"But I'm lucky. I love what I do, it's very rewarding and when my fleeting insecurities pass, I'm left with a resounding certitude. I don't have all the answers," Bridget paused. "I just know what I see."

"And what's that?" Franky asked, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

Their eyes held and Bridget's smile was kind and genuine. "A young woman with a lot of potential. A woman who knows her own mind. Who is fearless."

Franky's chest burned, her heart thudded loudly and there's a stinging behind her eyes. She felt momentarily unbalanced.

The music from the stage blasted over the speakers, drowning out everything else. It was a catchy tune. _Pleasure & Pain_: it had an up-tempo beat.

"Hey, I remember this – isn't this the band that did _I Touch My Self_?" Franky shouted over the music, trying to divert the attention away from herself.

Bridget looked sheepish. "Yes."

"Now that's a song I can get behind!" Franky joked.

Bridget grinned. "I didn't know what it meant when it first came out. I was only 16. You should've seen my Dad's face when I played it at a family BBQ!"

Franky's head tilted back and she laughed: unadulterated and full of abandon. The sound was joyful and Bridget realised it was a sound she wanted to hear again, a sound she could grow to love.

The crowd pressed in on them, forcing them closer together.

The rhythm of the music flowed through the throng. The crowd moved in time to the song, arms raised in the air, swaying and singing along with the words.

Bridget closed her eyes and lost herself in the music. Her arms and hips swayed freely. Franky smiled as she watched her, then reached out and took Bridget's hand.

Bridget's eyes opened and she smiled happily at the brunette. She and Franky gravitated towards each other, pressing closer as they moved in unison. Hips rocking together, Franky's hands on Bridget's waist, Bridget's fingers pressing into Franky's lower back, bodies moving in harmony. They were wrapped in the moment, eyes locked, heat passing between their bodies. It was glorious and intimate.

The music faded as the band prepared for the next song and they found themselves pressed flush as the crowd cheered enthusiastically.

"I reckon this music could grow on me," Franky murmured, unable to tear her eyes away from Gidge.

Glitter confetti was released into the air and descended over the audience. Franky and Bridget looked up to see the sky filled with gold and silver flecks falling like snow drops. Franky returned her attention to Bridget and reached out, gently brushing a piece of confetti away from Bridget's cheek. They both held their breath. The world faded, leaving only them. Them and this all-encompassing, dizzying need. A completeness settled over them both: sharp and powerful and unnerving.

Spellbound, Franky ran her thumb across Bridget's jaw and heard the hitch in Bridget's breath. With both their hearts pounding, they inched closer together. Franky leaned forward and Bridget tilted her head up, their lips about to meet.

"Bridget!" A high-pitched voice called.

Bridget and Franky pulled apart and turned towards the intruding voice.

With dread Bridget saw that it was Michelle, her ex. Bridget's heart dropped. She hadn't seen her for eight months. Why now? Bridget glanced apologetically at Franky who looked bewildered.

Michelle cut through the crowd as she made a beeline for Bridget. When she reached them she wormed her way between them and hugged Bridget, her embrace tight and her eyes fired-up. "I thought it was you!"

"Hi Michelle," Bridget said quietly. She really didn't want to introduce her ex to Franky, afraid that would put a dampener on any potential romance with the barista. Michelle had a way of sucking all of the air out of a room. Everything was about her and if it wasn't, it soon was. She was a chronic attention-seeker and Bridget wondered how they'd stayed together for so long.

"Who's this?" Michelle indicated Franky with a dismissive tilt of her head.

"Franky," the brunette replied curtly.

Michelle acted as if Franky hadn't spoken. "It's good to see you. You look amazing, as always. I've wanted to reconnect for ages." She addressed Bridget and turned her back on Franky, making it clear that what she had to say to Bridget didn't include an audience.

Franky immediately felt uncomfortable. She clenched her jaw. "I'll just head back," she said to Bridget and turned to go.

Bridget caught her arm. "No, wait!" She wrapped her fingers about Franky's forearm and then glared at Michelle. "Shell, that was so rude - now's not - "

"I missed you," Michelle stated unabashedly.

Franky pulled out of Bridget's grasp. "I really should get back," she said and disappeared into the crowd. Not stopping and not looking back.

It was one thing to have a romance with Bridget that never quite got started but it was quite another to witness Bridget's reconciliation with her ex-girlfriend.

Franky tried to shake off her crushing disappointment as she headed back to _The Java Parlour_ stall. She'd thought she and Bridget had shared something special - some unspoken connection. Clearly she'd been wrong. Clearly Bridget had unfinished business.

When she made it back to the refreshment stand Shayne was being berated by a tall imposing woman with an air of Cruella de Vil. Franky hurried to his side.

"What seems to be the problem?" Franky asked the stranger.

The woman's eyes were cold and beady. "You're Franky Doyle?" she asked with a superior manner.

"Yeah."

"This is my Aunty Joan," Shayne whispered.

Franky's eyes narrowed. She'd heard plenty of stories from Shayne, enough to make her distrust this Aunt on first sight.

"Is there a problem?" Franky asked.

"I was just telling Shayne that if he took his studies seriously he should be revising not out gallivanting."

Franky eyeballed Shayne sternly and he looked away.

"Shayne?" she questioned.

"I have an exam on Monday," he fessed-up.

Franky sighed. "Alright – get off home and revise."

He looked perplexed. "But - "

"Now," she ordered.

He pulled off his apron, threw it on the ground and stomped off.

"Thank you," Ferguson said haughtily. "Even if he doesn't appreciate how important his studies are it's good to know you do. This coffee shop job is fine for some extra pocket money but I don't want him stuck in a dead-end job his whole life."

Franky glared at her.

Joan smirked, then turned and walked away.

Boomer moved beside Franky and bumped her shoulder. "You alright? Ya got a face like a slapped arse, eh?"

Franky shook her head. "How'd this day go from great to clusterfuck in the space of fifteen minutes?"

Boomer shrugged. "Life's shit."

Franky gave her a half-smile. "You're a philosopher, you know that Booms?! Come on, let's pack-up."


	5. Chapter 5

Franky and Boomer were packing-up the stall when Bridget arrived out of breath and red-faced. She'd extracted herself from Michelle as soon as she could and chased after Franky. Her heart was hammering and her stomach was filled with dread. She hoped she hadn't blown it but Franky's speedy withdrawal gave her little hope.

"I'm sorry about that," Bridget began.

Overwhelmed Franky turned her back on Bridget and moved towards the van.

Determined, Bridget stepped behind the stall and followed her.

Allie and Boomer raised their eyebrows and exchanged knowing looks.

Franky placed the empty tupperware boxes in the back of the van. When she turned Bridget was there. Directly behind her. She looked flushed and annoyed.

"Are we going to talk about this or are you going to continue to act like a child?" Bridget demanded.

"There's nothin' to talk about," Franky replied sharply.

"This is ridiculous! You're being petulant."

Franky didn't answer, as she went to step past Bridget, Bridget grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side of the van, where they were hidden from plain sight. She pushed Franky up against the cool metal of the vehicle, determined to have her full attention.

"Michelle is my ex. It's over between her and me. Has been for a long time. It's you I'm interested in."

For a moment Franky's heart beat loudly with hope. "Really?"

Bridget gave her a frustrated smile. "Yes! Are you clueless? I've been ogling you and getting tongue-tied since we met!"

Franky relaxed against the van, her eyes taking in Bridget's sincere face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Prove it!" Franky pushed, her lips quirking into a mischievous smile.

"You're very frustrating, you know that?" Bridget teased, slipping her hands about Franky's waist.

"Yep," Franky confirmed and raised her eyebrows in challenge. "What're ya gonna do about it?"

Bridget pursed her lips but couldn't keep the amusement and relief out of her eyes. She inched closer, her hips pressed against Franky's and then she reached out and brushed the hair away from Franky's sparkling eyes.

Slowly she edged forward and pressed her lips softly against Franky's. Franky moaned at the contact and slipped her arms about Bridget's waist, pulling her closer. Bridget braced her hands either side of Franky's head, her body flush against Franky's for the second time that day. It was delectable and sent tingles shooting through her body, alighting every nerve ending, she felt as if she were on fire…

Franky cupped the back of Gidge's neck as she deepened the kiss. Bridget's mouth was soft and pliant and her lips parted, welcoming Franky's tongue as it delved into her mouth. For a blissful moment Franky stopped thinking – she was all sensations and emotion and she never wanted to part her lips from Bridget's.

The heat rose, the tension mounting and rolling through their bodies. When their lips parted, they gazed at each other, breathless and dazed.

"You want to go out with me?" Franky blurted.

Bridget stared at her, dumbstruck for a moment. Her brain racing to catch-up. "As in a date?"

"Yes."

They stared at each other.

A smile nearly cracked Bridget's face in half. "More than anything."

"More than anythin'?"

"Yes."

"More than you want to kiss me again?"

Bridget's breath came out in a sharp exhale. "Well no – not as much as that!"

Franky laughed and raised an eyebrow. "Then get your pretty butt over here!"

Franky tucked her fingers into the waistband of Bridget's trousers and tugged her closer. She reached out with her other hand and lightly stroked Gidge's jaw. She smiled. Leaned in and gently brushed her lips against Bridget's again. Savoring the feel and taste.

As they kissed, Bridget sighed and closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms about Franky's neck and pressing herself firmly against the woman who had been driving her nuts since they'd first met.

They were both lost in the moment, in heat and unmasked desire.

* * *

As Boomer continued to pack the food away Allie cashed-up, not noticing the redhead headed their way.

"Any chance of a coffee?" Bea asked.

Allie glanced up, her stomach dropped as their eyes met and she felt instantly at a loss. "Yeah," she mumbled.

Boomer rolled her eyes as her gaydar picked-up yet another lesbo coupling. Seriously, she had to hang-out with straight people. There was no one she could talk to about dicks.

Allie and Bea were chatting animatedly as Allie poured Bea's drink order.

"You look familiar," Bea told the blonde, trying desperately to remember where she'd seen her before and not notice the cute hair flick Allie did unconsciously.

"I did a talk at _St. Joseph's_ 'bout the evils of drugs. You were one of the parent's, I recognize ya," Allie ventured.

Bea smiled warmly, remembering that afternoon at Debbie's high school. It had felt like a an inconvenience until the blonde had entered the room, illuminating it.

"Of course," Bea mumbled, trying to act nonchalant but feeling strangely flushed at putting the face to the name. "Allie Novak," she remembered with sudden clarity: Allie had made a mark.

Allie nodded in affirmation and smiled broadly. She didn't remember the cute redhead but wanted to. When she'd entered the classroom for that talk she'd been beset by nerves. By feeling inadequate to the task.

"You made quite an impression," Bea stated and gazed at Allie. She cleared her throat and glanced down at the coffee's. "On my daughter, I mean… she talked of nothing else for weeks. You probably saved me a trip to A&E so thank you."

Allie laughed.

Bea looked back up at her, enchanted.

* * *

"So when are we doing this?" Bridget asked.

Franky glanced up at her in feigned innocence. "Doin' what?"

Bridget shot her a knowing look.

Franky grinned roguishly. "Oh the date thing?"

Bridget smacked her arm. "Yes the date _thing_!"

Franky tightened her arms about Bridget's waist, pulling her closer. "How are you fixed for Friday night?"

Bridget gazed into Franky's hypnotic green eyes. "That would be good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Franky's breath caught and she cupped Bridget's face, leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to her lips. It soon turned tempestuous. Hands reaching, fingers searching, lips exploring. Franky felt lost in a haze, could see a lifetime of forgetting herself with Bridget.

Boomer soon interrupted, voice full of concern as she ventured behind the van. "Hey Franky – what're we doin' with the left-over cakes?"

Franky regretfully pulled back from Bridget's embrace. Her lips tingling. She glanced at her friend in annoyance. "Booms. Do whatever you want."

"Seriously?!" Boomer exclaimed.

"Yes, now fuck right off!"

Boomer headed back to the stall with a skip in her step.

Bridget leaned her forehead against Franky's, breathless and mesmerized. "I'm not alone in this, right?" she asked uncertainly.

Franky beamed. "No."

"Good," Bridget whispered.

Franky wrapped her arms about Bridget and pulled her in for another halting kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

When Shayne arrived for his shift the following day he looked sheepish. He mumbled an apology for storming off at _The Sullivan Bay Festival_ but Franky was full of concern not admonishment. He looked tired and downhearted, most unlike his normal self.

Franky ruffled his hair gently. "You okay mate?" she asked.

He shrugged.

Franky indicated with a tilt of her head that Boomer should take-over the counter as she led Shayne to the kitchen.

"What's up?" she asked kindly once the swing doors had closed behind them.

He shrugged again, refusing to meet her eye.

"Come on Shayne," Franky coaxed and touched his shoulder.

He looked at her, his jaw nervously clenching. "Aunty Joan is givin' me grief about school…" he trailed off, frustrated. "My grades suck. I've tried but I'm just not as smart as the other kids. It takes me longer to get things. She doesn't understand. Just says I'm not trying hard enough."

Franky bit her tongue. She'd really like to beat the crap out of Aunty Joan.

"Like it's my fault I'm dumb," Shayne mumbled, eyes full of self-reproach.

"Hey – you're not dumb, alright?" Franky said swiftly, her tone steely. "Your Aunty Joan wants the best for you, she just doesn't go about it in the best way," Franky countered. "Maybe I could help you study after school? How about that?"

"It's no use, I'm no good at academic stuff. One of my teacher's has already been tutoring me in the lunch break but my marks haven't gone up. I read the text books till I'm nearly blind but it doesn't go in." He shrugged, defeated. "It's not how I'm wired."

Franky studied his despondent face and her heart went out to him. He was a good kid, a little mixed-up and took things too much to heart, but a great kid.

"What do you want?" Franky asked.

He looked puzzled. "What?"

"What do _you_ want Shayne? When you leave school. When you've got to make your own way in the world. What do you want to do?"

A tentative smile came to his lips. "I'm good at crafts, good with my hands, practical things ya know? I like makin' stuff. Furniture and that. I've always been ace at CDT."

Franky nodded. "Not everybody's academic, some people are gifted in practical skills - it's not a failing, just means your talents lie elsewhere – not in books."

He smiled sadly. "Yeah but Aunty Joan - "

Franky held up her hands. "It's your life not hers. You gotta live it for yourself, not to make her happy."

He looked uncertain.

"Look, when you've got a free arvo this week, swing by, we'll go through your options, okay? We'll look at vocational courses and find something that suits ya. Then you can worry about your Aunty Joan."

Shayne smiled. "Thanks Franky," he said and embraced her fiercely. Feeling tremendous relief.

She rubbed his back soothingly. When they separated, she ruffled his hair again and he laughed. "Now get back to work, slacker," she teased.

He mock-saluted her and ventured back out to the counter to join Boomer as the lunch hour rush began.

Franky was about to follow him when her mobile phone beeped. She pulled it from her back pocket. It was a text from Bridget. A grin spread across her face and her heart beat wildly as she opened it.

 _Eating a muffin and thinking of you. Bx_

Franky snorted and immediately texted back.

 _Naughty minx. Fx_

She slipped her phone back in her pocket. Her date with Bridget was on Friday but it felt like a lifetime away. 5 days. 5 torturous days until she could have Bridget all to herself. No interruptions, just them, alone.

When she'd got back from _The Sullivan Bay Festival_ last night they'd talked on the phone for hours and today they had been texting each other constantly. Silly things – jokes, snippets of how their day was going, a couple of _thinking of you's_. Her mind automatically reminisced on the feel of Bridget's soft yielding lips, threading her fingers through Bridget's silky hair, Gidge's subtle perfume, the warmth of her breath ghosting against Franky's neck, her fingertips pressing against bare skin, her irresistible heat…

Franky headed out to the counter where Boomer was whipping-up four coffees at once, juggling china cups, takeaway cups, bottles of syrup, a chocolate sprinkles canister and the milk steamer. Her hands moved expertly and at lightning speed. It was an impressive sight. Franky moved to Shayne's side to take the next order. The queue swelling with eager faces in desperate need of caffeine.

They were run off their feet for the next hour.

As the queue thinned, Bea arrived and seated herself at the counter. She ordered a slice of strawberry cheesecake and a hot chocolate and proceeded to amuse Franky with the latest domestic disaster with Jacs'. Her sister had decided to extend her stay by a fortnight and was driving Bea up the wall.

That's when Allie walked in to return the drill she'd borrowed. She had volunteered to do scenery for the local Am Dram group who were putting on a production of _Wicked_ and had borrowed some power tools off Franky to build the set.

Bea nearly choked on a mouthful of cheesecake as Allie neared. She was wearing a sexy pair of frayed denim shorts and a tight-fitting white camisole under an over-baggy hoodie covered in paint splashes and tears. Her long, lithe tanned legs were on display as were the sinewy muscles of her arms. Her haired was pulled back into a messy ponytail with a few loose strands framing her face. She wore no make-up and still managed to look startling beautiful.

As soon as Allie clapped eyes on the redhead a bright smile covered her face and she waved cheerfully. Bea suddenly fidgeted, wiping her mouth with a napkin, one hand twiddling with her hair, the other tapping the counter self-consciously.

"Hey," Allie greeted.

"Hey," Bea replied.

"We'll have to stop meeting like this!" Allie joked.

As she neared Allie stretched out her arm to shake Bea's hand, at the same time Bea half-stood, leaning in to kiss Allie's cheek. They ended-up in an awkward tangle. Bea's lips brushed dangerously close to the corner of Allie's mouth and Allie's hand accidentally skimmed Bea's ribcage, perilously close to her breast, when she'd been aiming to rub Bea's forearm. They both looked embarrassed.

Franky shook her head, taking no pity on them. "What was that? Some kind of secret society greeting?" She teased. "You part of The Freemasons or somethin'?"

Bea's face almost matched her hair.

Allie cleared her throat. "Good to see you again," she addressed Red and ignored Franky.

Bea smiled shyly. "You too."

Franky turned her attention on Allie. "That a drill or are ya just pleased to see me?"

Allie suddenly remembered the purpose of her visit. She held out the drill. Its cord wrapped tightly about the handle. "Ta. Did the job perfectly."

Franky took it gratefully and settled the power tool on a shelf beneath the counter. "A pleasure. It's been a while since you drilled anythin'," she grinned impishly. "Glad your dry spell is over."

Allie's eyebrows shot up and disappeared into her hairline. Then she grinned and shook her head in disbelief at her friend. Franky had always been a shit stirrer, ever since they were kids. It was both endearing and immensely irritating.

"Bea was just telling me about trying to come-up with distractions while her sister's in town. I thought maybe you could help her out? Your show starts this week, right? Maybe you could get her tickets?" Franky proposed.

"Oh, I'd like that," Bea said merrily.

"You don't wanna come to that," Allie assured Bea, waving her hand dismissively. Then saw a look of disappointment flit across the redhead's features. She bit her lip. Why was she trying to discourage Bea? If anything, she'd love the opportunity to spend more time with the enticing woman and get to know her better.

"Oh… okay…" Bea mumbled. Stung from the rejection.

"I mean, of course you're welcome to come," Allie quickly amended. "In fact, I'll get you free tickets, just tell me how many you want, what date and I'll take care of it. If you want, you can come by the theatre early and I'll give you a behind-the-scenes tour," she suddenly lost her confidence. "Um, that is, only if you want to."

Bea smiled enthusiastically. "That sounds delightful. If it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all," Allie beamed. "Great, well, that's sorted."

They smiled at each other, their gazing lingering a little too long.

Franky cleared her throat. "You might wanna swap numbers, unless you're going to use telepathy as a means of communication!"

"Oh yeah, of course," Bea replied. She reached into her pocket and grappled for a second, then pulled out her mobile phone. She handed it to Allie, smiling bashfully and glancing down as Allie quickly entered her number and email address into Bea's phone. Allie handed it back, their fingers grazed and they smiled again.

Franky turned her back and left them to (hopefully) cement their plans. Plans that could lead to Sapphic shenanigans. Bea had never shown an interest in being vagetarian before but it was certainly looking like Allie had whet her appetite.

Franky leaned into Boomer who had a jam donut clamped in her mouth as she added the chocolate syrup to the Frappuccino she was preparing. "20 bucks says those two are gonna get it on," Franky hedged.

Boomer glanced over her shoulder at Bea and Allie who were chatting intimately and giving off every 'I'm available and very interested' signal known to man and lesbo. She took the donut out of her mouth. "Old news," she replied.

Franky looked disappointed. "Alright, 20 bucks says they'll get together by this time next week."

Boomer looked over at the flirting couple again and narrowed her eyes in concentration, as if she could somehow see into the future. "Two weeks," she guesstimated from their body language.

"You're on," Franky chirped.

They shook hands, sealing the deal.

Franky wiped the jam that Boomer had accidentally smeared on her fingers during their handshake onto her apron.

As Boomer resumed her Frappucino making, Franky's mobile phone beeped again. She pulled it out of the back pocket of her jeans. It was another text from Bridget. Her heart sped-up and butterflies beat their wings riotously in her stomach. She pressed the 'open' button.

 _Found the perfect place for our first date. Bx_

Bridget had sent a link to a 1940's themed cocktail bar called _Cahoots,_ located aboard a vintage train in the abandoned train station in Ballarat East.

Last night, whilst lying in bed propped up on pillows, phone in hand, Franky had told Bridget of her Mum's love of old movies, how she used to take her and Tess to the cinema once a month for the Classic Hollywood afternoon and Franky's favourite had been _The Lady Vanishes_. Picking-up on the train thread, Bridget had responded that her favourite novel was _Anna Karenina_ (despite the tragic train-related ending).

"Isn't that like 800 gazillion pages long?" Franky had asked.

Bridget had laughed. "Yes."

"And depressing as fuck?"

"Depends on how you look at it. In essence it's about a torrid love affair, of a woman who refuses to be restricted by society's double-standards and dares to love who she wants without shame. Even though it goes horribly wrong, I think she's very brave and a fantastic role-model for women."

"Sounds pretty awesome when you put it like that," Franky said softly. "I may have to read it… or rent the movie."

"Yeah, it is 800 gazillion pages long after all, you don't want to overexert yourself," Bridget had teased.

"Not when there are so many _other_ ways I could overexert myself," she'd husked.

They had talked until Franky's eyes began to droop and she could hear Bridget stifle a yawn. Neither wanted to end the call but reluctantly they had to admit they both had early starts so murmured soft goodbyes, both wearing goofy grins as they hung-up.

As she studied the website, Franky had to admit _Cahoots_ looked promising. There was a live band playing jazz and swing. Dressing-up in the style of the 40's was encouraged but not essential. There was food available, dancing and it looked like an inviting and intimate setting. Perfect for a romantic night out.

 _Ideal. Fx_

After she texted back, she put her phone in her jeans back pocket. When she looked up she noticed her friends were staring at her with knowing smirks.

"What?" the brunette asked.

"Was that Bridget by any chance?" Allie guessed.

Franky felt defensive. "So?"

Boomer rolled her eyes.

"So nothing. It's good to see you so happy… after everything. She's good for you."

Franky shrugged nonchalantly and leaned against the counter. "She's different from anyone I've ever dated. I don't want to blow it."

"You won't!" Bea reassured.

"You've met me right?" Franky joked. "When it comes to the ladies I always find a way to stuff up."

Franky could lure women in no problemo, it was getting them to stay that was the tricky part. Her track record sucked. She'd never had a proper grown-up, long-term relationship before.

"She hasn't run away yet," Allie pointed-out. "You're being too hard on yourself."

"So where are you going on your big date?" Bea asked, trying to distract Franky from destructive thoughts.

* * *

" _Cahoots_ ," Bridget replied and tugged on the sleek lavender blouse and her most flattering knee length black pencil skirt with a back slit. It was the umpteenth outfit she'd tried on in 15 minutes.

Vera, her heavily pregnant best friend, sat on the end of Bridget's bed as they both scrutinized her appearance.

Bridget turned from the full-length mirror to face Vera, hands on her hips. "What do you think?"

"Too sexy," Vera declared.

"Really?" Bridget bit her bottom lip. Wondering if too sexy wasn't a good thing. She grinned. "Your idea of too sexy is a bin bag!" she teased.

Vera laughed good-humouredly and took a sip of herb tea, resting her other hand protectively over her baby bump. She was 7 months along and acutely uncomfortable most of the time.

Bridget slipped her feet into a pair of black heels she'd been saving for a special occasion. They were ridiculously expensive but they made her calf's look phenomenal and, with Franky, phenomenal is what she was going for. She turned back to her reflection. Her eyes narrowed. Her outfit was missing something. That certain je ne sais quoi. She sighed.

"What about that slinky emerald dress you bought last month for Harlow's cocktail party?" Vera suggested, taking another sip of tea, wanting to take away the dissatisfaction on her friend's face.

Bridget's eyes lit-up. "Vera you're a genius!"

Vera smiled self-consciously and waved the compliment off as Bridget riffled through her wardrobe to find it.

"You really like her, don't you?" Vera said, grinning at her friend's exuberance. She hadn't seen Bridget this happy since the early days with Michelle. No, scrap that. She'd never seen Bridget this head-over-heels before.

Bridget stripped out of her current outfit and pulled the green dress over her head.

Vera averted her eyes, looking at the print of Monet's _Water Lilies_ that hung on Bridget's wall. She was intrinsically shy. Modesty and humility had been drilled into her by her mother. She was doing her best to combat it and its scars, Bridget had been an invaluable help, but she still felt self-conscious at times. It was annoying and debilitating but she fought it every inch. She wanted to carve a new life for herself, away from her mother's influence, and now, with the baby on its way, she wanted to be the kind of mother she wished she'd had.

"What do you think?" the blonde asked.

Vera turned back around, she gasped and grinned. Bridget was a vision. "Perfect!" she exclaimed happily.

Bridget smiled appreciatively at her friend. "I think we have a winner!"

She gathered up her blonde locks. "Hair up or down?" she asked as she twirled it into a bun.

Vera scrunched her nose, "Down."

Bridget let go of her tresses and they fell loosely about her shoulders. "You should have been a beauty consultant not a nurse," Bridget joked. She started to unzip the dress, wanting to keep it in prime condition for the big day.

"When's the date?" Vera asked as Bridget shimmied out of the dress.

"Friday," Bridget replied as she returned the dress to its hanger.

Vera stared at her friend. That was four days from now. "You're keen," she commented.

Bridget didn't let on that she'd had butterflies ever since they'd finalized a date, ever since she'd pulled out of Franky's arms at _The Sullivan Garden Festival_ , lipstick smeared, hair tousled, tingling all over, and forced herself to go home alone. To do things properly. She could see a future with Franky, could see a long happy life together. She didn't want to rush. She wanted to enjoy their courtship.

She pulled on her dressing gown and sat beside Vera on the bed. Vera handed her a giant glass of wine, Bridget accepted it graciously and took an appreciative sip, her eyes flashing. "Now tell me how things are going with Jake."

Vera shifted her weight. "We're still in couple's therapy. He goes to an AA meeting every week. He's trying."

Bridget nodded in understanding. She didn't like Jake, or rather, how his lies and double-dealings had impacted her friend but Vera loved him and now there was the baby to consider.

Bridget patted Vera's baby bump. "Good. He has a lot to try for."

* * *

On Thursday evening Franky and Shayne sat at her kitchen table, her laptop in front of them. They had spent several hours browsing vocational training courses.

"That looks up your alley," Franky said after they'd narrowed down his ambitions to woodwork.

She clicked on a link which took them to the details of the course. The module's available consisted of: Woodturning, Frame Joinery, Furniture Making, Door Making, Wood Finishing, Furniture Reproduction Techniques.

"What do you reckon?" she asked.

He nodded enthusiastically. "I like the look of it. I made a backyard lounger in CDT last year, don't know if you remember? I liked working with the materials and was chuffed with the results. It's the first time I felt kinda proud."

As if Franky could forget that backyard lounger chair! Shayne had taken multiple photo's of it and shown them to every customer he served that day, pleased as punch.

"It's a good choice. You'll learn all the skills you need and then progress to an apprenticeship."

"Ripper." He read further and his cheerful expression crumbled. "Shit Franky – look at the tuition prices… I can't afford that. I've got Buckley's of gettin' in."

Franky's eyes fell on the price. $22,000. She touched Shayne's arm reassuringly. "That's what loan companies are for and you can apply for a grant. There's lots of ways round it."

He looked disbelieving. It all suddenly seemed insurmountable.

"Don't let the fee's put you off. Even if you have to take a loan, you'll pay it back as soon as you start earning. It's nothing to be afraid of. I'll help you fill in all the forms and sort out the paperwork."

He looked at her dumbfounded and deeply touched. "For real?"

"For real," she promised.

He smiled wholeheartedly. "You're a top chick, Franky."

Franky grinned back. "Yes I am but I gotta know that this is what you want Shayne. There's no point me pushing to help you unless you want this."

"I do," he said solemnly.

"Good. Then we'd better crack on, hey?"

* * *

It was Friday. The day of their big date. The morning was slow and the hours dragged, tormenting her.

By the afternoon Franky was almost sick with nerves and Boomer wasn't helping – she'd been ribbing Franky all day, cracking jokes and making kissy faces. To escape, Franky took to the kitchen to whip-up a batch of paprika pastry vegetable tarts. She was trying a new recipe and experimenting with the ingredient measurements. She was a little unfocussed on her task, thinking constantly of Bridget instead. As she put the batch of 12 tarts in the oven and started to clean-up, a thousand worse-case scenario's ran through her head. Reasons Bridget would cancel or it would be a disaster.

Getting fed-up of herself, Franky decided to confirm, just in case. Bridget was a busy woman, something unexpected could have come up. So she texted her.

 _You still on for tonight? Fx_

It only took a minute for her phone to ping with Bridget's reply.

 _Absolutely. Bx_

Franky let out a relieved breath.

Boomer walked through the swing doors carrying an empty tray. "We're outta carrot cake slices." She slammed the tray down carelessly on the counter and sniffed the air. "Oh, ya got somethin' cookin'? Smells ace, hey."

Franky crossed over to the oven and pulled it open. The tarts were done to perfection. Crisp pastry and a nice brown to the cheese topped vegetables. She put on an oven glove and pulled the tray out of the oven and set it down on the counter. Boomer watched her with an eager eye.

"Go ahead!" Franky said and rolled her eyes as Boomer reached for a tart and devoured it whole.

Boomer's face went from delight to bright red in the span of 5 seconds. She pursed her lips and puffed out several sharp breaths. "Shit that's spicy!"

Franky suddenly realised that while she'd been daydreaming about Bridget she may have put a little too much paprika in… quite a bit too much if Boomer's watering eyes and pink puffy face was anything to go by! Franky laughed.

"It's not fuckin' funny! My gob's as dry as a Nun's nasty!" Boomer declared and rushed past her friend to the sink, turned the cold tap on full and stuck her head under it, mouth open, desperately swallowing the spray of cool water.

Franky laughed harder. "That'll teach ya, greedy guts!"

* * *

Bridget was in a board meeting about group therapy outreach programme's in correctional facilities. Her phone vibrated to indicate that she had a new text message. She'd switched it to silent, as she always did when she was in meetings. She saw the text was from Franky and couldn't help the wide grin that spread across her face. She glanced around the room quickly. Two of her colleagues were discussing the merits of starting the programme state-wide, which Bridget was all for, as the trials they'd done had been hugely successful in lowering self-harm and violence amongst the prisoner population, but her colleagues never seemed to resolve anything. The final decision was always put-off and so they kept going round in an endless loop. Bridget was bored out of her mind. Every week they ended up having the same debate without moving forward. She knew what everyone would say before they said it. Right now Linda Miles was whittling on about cost. As if patient welfare had a price. It was their duty, moral and professional, to help these people. Bridget tuned-out: Linda's pedant arguments about budget and expenditure always pissed her off.

She glanced down at her phone and pressed 'open', then eagerly read what Franky had written.

 _Hey hotstuff! Can't wait to see you. Been thinking about you all day. I have a good feeling about tonight. Fx_

She felt a flush of pleasure and quickly typed back a teasing reply.

 _You've stopped thinking it'll be an unmitigated disaster then? Bx_

A moment passed and her phone flashed that a new text message was in her inbox. As she read it, she had to hold in a snort of laughter.

 _Yeah. It's an impossibility. I'm wearing my lucky undies! Fx_

Bridget grinned and texted back straightaway.

 _I'm flattered. Bx_

 _You should be. Fx_

 _Hope you don't think this means you're gonna get lucky tonight! Bx_

She waited with baited breath. Flirting with Franky via text was fun and exciting but she couldn't wait to see her in person, to feel their chemistry simmer and fizz. Feel the lust, longing and sexual tension rippling between them. Charging the air and filling it with sparks. The anticipation was deliciously agonizing.

 _That's up to you ;D_

As Bridget typed her heart beat a little faster at the prospect.

 _Wear those ultra tight jeans and I'll be unable to resist. Bx_

Franky's reply was almost instantaneous.

 _Whatever the lady desires. Fx_

Someone coughed loudly. Bridget glanced up and realized everyone in the room was looking expectantly at her. She swallowed hard and put her phone down on the table top.

"Well?" Linda asked.

Bridget shrugged. She guessed they'd gone full circle again. "I have no objections," she replied weakly. This seemed to assure her colleagues and they agreed to discuss the matter again next week, maybe then a decision would be reached.

Bridget slipped her phone into her bag, she couldn't get distracted by Franky at work. She'd have chance enough to spend time with her tonight. She could barely wait. Excitement thrummed through her.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** I know it's been an age since I updated this, apologies. RL has been non-stop. Thank you to everyone for the encouraging feedback on past chapters. I do plan to finish this series. It's their first date (at last!) and things get a little steamy…

 **The Java Parlour - Part 7**

Bridget styled her hair like Margaret Lockwood in _The Lady Vanishes_ , sleek waves pinned back and then a tumble of tight curls. She applied mascara and a siren red lipstick to her mouth. She wore her slinky, sleeveless emerald satin gown which hugged her snugly and a black silk two-piece 1950's style jacket. She'd found it in a charity shop and fell in love with it instantly. She even wore nylon stockings. As she carefully slipped them on she tried very hard not to think about the possibility of Franky stripping them off with her teeth. She failed and a shiver ran down her spine and a warm sensation flooded her body and nestled low in her belly.

Once she was dressed she studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The cowl front over a georgette bodice was exquisite and sat just right on her. "Not bad for an over-the-hill, work-obsessed lesbo," she mumbled, running her hands down the seams of her dress. Enjoying the luxurious feel of the material.

She turned off the light, grabbed her purse and headed out.

* * *

Franky glared at her image in the mirror. She'd never had this much trouble getting ready for a date in her life. She felt the knots starting to form in her stomach. Her mobile phone was perched on the bedside table and Allie was on face time.

"What's wrong with this one?" Allie asked, exasperated.

"It's not right!" Franky protested, pulling the halter top over her head.

"Nor were the other ten! Pick an outfit Franky or she'll be gone by the time you get there!"

Franky sighed, she knew Allie was right, which was most infuriating. Just then her eyes alighted on something in her wardrobe that she'd worn to a fancy dress party forever ago. She grinned.

"What?" Allie asked suspiciously.

"I've got it!" Franky pulled the hanger out and held the outfit up so Allie could see it.

Her friend grinned and gave her the thumbs up.

* * *

Bridget brimmed with confidence and her body thrummed with excitement as she entered the main entrance of _Cahoots,_ through an old fashioned scissor gate. Live jazz music echoed throughout the converted train station. The place was lit by low hanging period lamps which created a gentle, intimate glow. The station walls were white tiles with a uniform green boarder and a large sign displaying the station name. There was a framed vintage train map from 1947 on the platform. The retro bar was also on the platform, surrounded by varying sized tables and mismatched chairs. In a corner was a podium on which the band sat, with a small dance floor before them. On the disused train tracks were several train carriages, each holding six tables. It was bustling with activity and had a sweet charm.

Bridget gave her name to the concierge and confirmed her reservation. She felt nervous. Felt excited. Felt like she might combust. She was directed to a train carriage and from there shown to a table by a waitress. It had red, white and brown patterned booth seats, a wooden rectangular table and a tea cup shaped light flickered like a candle in the centre of the table, giving it a cozy feel. She settled in and gazed about her. Trunks covered in stickers sat in the luggage racks above the tables, old clocks and 1950's advertising posters decorated the walls. Bridget was suddenly struck with nerves. Had she picked the right place? Would Franky like it? Was she over-dressed? Would she seem desperate? Would Franky even show-up?

A smooth, seductive voice quietened her thoughts. "Excuse me Ma'am, is this seat taken?" Franky asked.

Bridget's neck snapped round and she found herself gazing up into Franky's green eyes, glimmering with their usual playful sparkle. Her date was dressed in a tux. Sleek black suit, white shirt and bow tie. Even a handkerchief was resting in the breast pocket. Bridget's breath left her and her mouth fell open. If she weren't gay to begin with she certainly was now! Franky looked gorgeous. Elegant, sophisticated and irresistible.

"No," Bridget replied and slid over to make room for her.

Franky sat down next to her and their thigh's brushed. That irrefutable spark passed between them again. Simmering and sensual. Bridget's heart was pounding and she was pretty sure she was having a similar effect on Franky, if her hooded eyes and appreciative gaze was anything to go by.

"Hey," Franky greeted, and Bridget couldn't tear her eyes away. There was an intrinsic grace and confidence about Franky that was sublimely sexy.

Bridget gave her a sultry smile. "Hey."

Franky leaned in and kissed Bridget's cheek. Her lips were soft. Heat ripped through Bridget and pooled between her legs. She noticed Franky's eyes darken as they stayed concentrated on her. They smiled at each other. The flickering candlelight emphasised Franky's cheekbones and full mouth, the smoothness of her skin and the greenness of her glittering eyes. She looked almost ethereal. One eyebrow cocked, ready for mischief, and a sense of unpredictability that thrilled Bridget to her toes.

Bridget ran her finger along the polished wood of the table nervously. "You look delectable," she said.

Franky's crooked grin widened. "So do you," she replied as she took in Bridget's hair that shone like spun gold, her long elegant neck, well-defined collarbones, toned arms and tight fitting dress. She was a stunner and Franky knew she would come a cropper before the night was out.

"I was going for Margaret Lockwood in _The Lady Vanishes,_ " Bridget explained.

Recognition flashed in Franky's eyes and her dimples deepened as her smile got impossibly wider. "She was hot in that film."

"I recall you mentioning it once or twice," Bridget said, feigning annoyance.

"That sounded a lot like jealousy Gidge."

"Me? Jealousy is nothing but misplaced insecurity and low self-esteem. I'm far too mature for that nonsense," Bridget dismissed casually.

"Good to know." Franky playfully tugged at her tie. "I was going for Marlene Dietrich in _Morocco_."

Bridget grinned. "Well 10 out of 10 for effort. Does this mean you're going to burst into song at some point this evening?"

Franky laughed. "Trust me - you don't want to hear me sing!" she warned.

At the sound of the brunette's laugh, butterflies filled Bridget's stomach. "Oh, I don't know… I think it would be romantic," she teased.

Franky leaned back, arm resting casually on the back of the seat, and fixed Bridget with a flirtatious look. "Oh, wanna be serenaded do ya?"

"Not if you're tone deaf!" Bridget replied.

Franky snorted. "I could mime. I'll play a CD and lip-sync. It'll be great. What do you want? _My Heart Will Go On_ at midnight under the balcony of your bedroom window?"

"I live in a bungalow."

"Now you're deliberately sabotaging my serenading techniques, Gidge," Franky mock grumbled, eyes shimmering with amusement. "Hey, maybe I should do it here?!" Franky suggested enthusiastically, her face lighting-up as if it were the best idea she'd ever had. She started to stand.

Terrified that she'd actually do it, Bridget grabbed Franky's hand and pulled her back down into the seat beside her. "Don't you dare!" she whispered. Cheeks flushing furiously. Franky laughed and Bridget shook her head affectionately at her date. She suddenly became aware that she was still holding onto Franky's hand. Her fingers lingered ever so slightly before pulling away.

Their gaze held, Bridget's eyes were burning and the air suddenly thickened between them. They smiled brightly at each other. Bridget licked her lips unconsciously and Franky's chest tightened. This was going to be a long night and she had the feeling her restraint was going to be well and truly tested.

A waitress approached their table. Bleach blonde hair piled on top of her head, heavy make-up, wearing a pinafore and wide smile and looking like a 1940's movie starlet. "Any tipples?" she asked.

Franky reached for the _Scoundrels'_ _Cocktails_ menu and browsed the extensive list. She quickly settled on one. "A _Judy Garland_ , please," she ordered.

"Same for me," Bridget chimed. She couldn't focus enough to read right now – as she looked at the menu over Franky's shoulder, the words were swimming before her eyes and her brain wasn't taking in anything except how close Franky was sitting to her and the ruinous things it was doing to her body.

The waitress scribbled a note on her order pad and then retreated. Franky set the menu back in place and pointed, through the window of the train car, where they saw the bartender making the cocktails. Throwing, shaking and stirring a cocktail shaker. It was impressive.

"This place is great. I'm glad you found it," Franky said.

Bridget leaned an elbow on the table and rested her chin on it, facing Franky. "I'm glad you gave me a free muffin," she retorted. "Else we might not be here."

They both laughed. Eyes flashing.

"I don't usually do that, just so you know," Franky admitted.

"What? Give away free pastries?"

"Give anything away," Franky declared. Then felt a rush of vulnerability. Was that too much information for a first date? But she felt like she could be open with Gidge in a way that normally scared the crap out of her. Bridget could be trusted. "I don't want you thinkin' I do that all the time. That every gorgeous woman that walks through the door catches my attention. That day was different. You were different. You looked really stressed and I just… wanted to help. Wanted to make you smile, even if it was only for a moment."

Bridget's expression softened and she instinctively leaned further into Franky's space. Franky felt her heart beat so wildly she worried it would break a rib.

"I didn't think that," Bridget assured.

Franky felt unworthy of the undisguised trust and want in Bridget's eyes in that moment. So she decided to lighten the mood. "I mean don't get me wrong – I am a terrible flirt in the coffee shop, but that's just me."

"I wouldn't say terrible… obvious maybe," Bridget quipped.

"Hey!" Franky exclaimed. "I gave you some of my best lines!"

"They need work."

"They worked on you. You're here, aren't ya?" she pointed out smugly.

"True," Bridget agreed. "But it's mainly out of pity."

"Oh?" Franky played along.

"Yeah, I was informed by a reliable source that you had an incurable case of cat-got-ya-tongue and weren't long for this world."

"Well that's mighty big of ya, Gidge. Your commitment to charity knows no bounds!" Franky's eyes met hers again and a dazzling smile broke across her face. She could do this for the rest of her life, she decided. Being with Bridget, bantering, teasing and the easy laughter.

"You're very beautiful," Bridget murmured.

Something tore through Franky, sharp and sudden. An almost unbearable ache of longing. "Why Ms Westfall, are you attempting to seduce me?"

"I think I am," Bridget said, her voice low and raspy. "Do you mind?"

"I'm rather partial to you too," Franky said quietly, her usual boisterousness suspended for a moment. No one has had this effect on her before - this wanting something serious, something lasting. It made her nervous, made her dizzy and resolute. She knew what she was feeling because she had never felt it before, had never been so rapt by someone. She knew she was falling for Bridget and falling hard.

Bridget reached out and placed her hand over Franky's, which rested on the seat between them. Her palm was warm and she dragged her thumb across Franky's knuckles in a small circular movement. Franky let out a sharp breath as Bridget's gentle touch caused a jolt of pleasure to shoot through her.

Bridget smiled radiantly at her. "I've been really looking forward to tonight."

"Me too."

Bridget gazed at her. "I took two hours picking an outfit."

"I took three."

They laughed again.

Bridget cocked an eyebrow, a devilish expression on her face. "Are you wearing your lucky undies?"

"I'm not wearing undies," Franky replied.

Bridget looked a little breathless at that, she licked her lips again and Franky felt pure arousal, knee-weakening and heady, consume her.

The blistering tension between them was interrupted when Bridget's mobile phone beeped inside her purse which sat atop the table. For a moment her heart sunk – a hundred scenarios running through her head. A work emergency, a friend in need, a patient in crisis. She'd have to leave hastily, need to end the night before it had really started. She glanced fretfully at her purse and pulled out her phone as she mumbled an apology to Franky.

Bridget looked nervously at her phone. She'd received a text from Vera. She felt a stab of panic. Had she gone into labour? Had something happened with Jake? With a pounding heart she opened the text message.

 _How's your date going? Does she like the bar? Vx_

Bridget rolled her eyes, her pulse slowing.

"Everything okay?" Franky asked with concern.

Bridget smiled. "Anxious best friend," she explained and quickly fired off a text telling Vera to, for the love of God, not interrupt her evening again unless it was an emergency. Then added several kisses and a heart emoji to soften the abruptness of her words.

As Bridget rested her phone on the table top, the waitress approached with a tray and set their drinks down. They were in glasses shaped like a female bust.

"This is my kinda place," Franky joked.

Bridget rolled her eyes and the waitress departed to take someone else's order.

Franky dipped her head, tracing the rim of her glass with her index finger, suddenly self-conscious, trying to get back to the smoking hot tension they'd shared just moments ago before the interruption. "I've been thinking about you all day… well, all week," she admitted.

"Me too."

Franky looked up into Bridget's strikingly blue eyes, she was giving her that look again. That smouldering, irresistible look. Franky was about to lean forward, about to gently brush Gidget's jawline with her fingertips and then follow it with a graze of her lips… Bridget was already leaning into her, anticipating her touch… when Franky's pocket beeped. Breaking the spell. Franky scowled and fished out her mobile phone. It was a text from Allie. She opened it.

 _Did you make it in time? Did she like your outfit? Call me if you need me to pick you up. Ax_

Franky sighed and quickly texted back:

 _Go away! Talk 2moro. Love ya. Fx_

"What's wrong?" Bridget asked.

Franky shook her head. "Over-anxious BFF."

They exchanged a knowing, helpless smile.

"It's sweet that they care," Bridget said, not sounding entirely convinced.

"Yeah," Franky agreed and then crinkled-up her nose. "And a bit annoying."

"So annoying!" Bridget concurred.

They both grinned. Bridget reached for her mobile and simultaneously they switched off their phones and put them away in a silent pact.

Franky raised her cocktail glass to her lips and sipped. The gin, rose liqueur, jasmine syrup and Champagne was a fitting combination and suffused her stomach with warmth. Over the rim of her glass she studied Bridget. Her eyes appraising every curve and hint of skin she could glimpse. They traced the scattering of freckles across the luminescent skin of Bridget's arms. The defined collar bones and gentle swell of her cleavage. The tapered waist and flare of hip, the rise and fall of her chest as her breathing became uneven, and Franky imagined Bridget's eager lips pressed against her own, her heat, the feel of satin against her fingertips as she fisted the material of Bridget's dress and dragged it slowly, torturously slowly, up. Inch by inch, revealing more and more of Bridget to her hungry gaze. She felt her throat go dry and took a gulp of her drink.

She watched Bridget languidly stir the straw in her cocktail and then lean forward, taking the straw into her mouth and sucking gently. Franky had to avert her eyes at that. God, she desperately wanted to kiss Bridget and the impulse to strip her out of that spectacular gown was becoming unbearable…

"Tasty," Bridget murmured appreciatively, referring to the cocktails, but it sounded decidedly dirty.

Franky nodded dumbly. Not trusting her voice. After a hesitation, her eyes returned to Bridget, skimming her face, and there was an unmistakable blush in her cheeks which made Franky want to thoroughly ravish her all the more.

"Do you want to dance?" Bridget asked, her voice a little hoarse, feeling flustered under Franky's intense scrutiny and wanting an excuse, any excuse, to get as close to Franky as she could.

Franky's eyes stayed fixed on Bridget's face. "More than anything."

The jazz band were playing a sultry melody, all sensuous notes and stirring strings. Franky slid out of her seat and stood. She offered her hand and Bridget took it. Their fingers entwined and Bridget rose gracefully to her feet. They stepped off the train carriage and moved towards the dance floor. Weaving between the tables on the platform, hand-in-hand, and Bridget already felt shaky, felt her limbs tremble with want.

Once they reached the dance floor, Bridget stepped into Franky's arms. Her left arm circled Franky's waist and her right hand fitted perfectly into the brunette's. Franky held their joined hands against her chest and placed her right hand against Bridget's back and drew her close. Their cheeks pressed together and Franky breathed in Bridget's delicate perfume.

They moved in unison to the music, hips fused, chest's flush and knees brushing with every step. They let the music wash over them and enjoyed the feel of each other as their bodies swayed, tucked closely together, hearts beating riotously. Franky twirled her and when she brought Bridget back into her firm embrace, Bridget slid her left hand beneath Franky's tux jacket. Her fingers knotted in the soft fabric of Franky's shirt, it was territorial, testing. They locked eyes, unwavering and sultry. Bridget's hand drifted lower and she stroked her thumb up and down Franky's lower back. It was a gentle caresses but it caused a shiver to run through the barista.

Franky tightened her grip on Bridget, drawing her nearer, her hand firm against Bridget's back. Luxuriating in the body heat Bridget was throwing-off through the flimsy material of her emerald dress and enjoying the press of her body. They gazed into each other's eyes. It was torrid and dizzying, this unspoken magnetism they shared.

"I really like you," Franky whispered.

"I really like you too," Bridget whispered back.

They fell into silence and continued to move in time to the melody. Their surroundings faded, leaving only them and the incessant throb of the music. The air crackled and shimmered between them. They were caught in its haze. Bridget could no longer resist, her right hand slid from Franky's grasp and glided into her hair. Her fingers played idly with dark tresses, wrapping a strand around her finger and then letting it fall back in place, revelling in the texture, in the familiarity of the action.

Gidget leaned her head against Franky's shoulder and closed her eyes. She pressed her face against Franky's neck, breathed her in and tightened her hold. In response, Franky's deft fingers gently glided upwards to caress the nape of her neck. Bridget expelled a shuddering breath as goosebumps erupted on her skin. It was gloriously intimate, being touched like that, and when she drew back, lifted her head and met Franky's gaze, the intent in Franky's eyes was intoxicating. She felt a stirring between her legs that spread outwards, setting her whole body ablaze.

"You feel so right," Franky murmured in Bridget's ear.

Bridget smiled happily. "Bet you say that to all the girls."

"Just you," Franky said plaintively.

Their gaze held as they continued to dance in silence. Palm to palm, hip to hip, emanating heat and pent-up desire.

After three dances they returned to their table. They smiled heatedly at each other as they retook their seats. They sipped their cocktails, which had turned room temperature in their absence and Franky flagged down the waitress to order another round of drinks.

Bridget's attentive eyes glided over the lithe shape of Franky as she held up her arm and waved at the waitress. Bridget imagined running her fingers over every muscle and contour of Franky's body, closely followed by her tongue, then imagined the taste of Franky's skin and her musky scent when she drove her to the brink… Bridget was itching to touch her date but she had to at least make a show of self-control. Though she didn't think it fair if she failed – Franky was ridiculously attractive. What chance did she really have?

After catching the waitress's eye and indicating a new round of drink was warranted, Franky turned her attention back to Bridget. She shrugged out of her tux jacket, overheated from the dancing, and folded it over her lap.

"I don't remember Marlene having this trouble," Franky joked.

"She couldn't sing either!" Bridget retorted.

Franky grinned. "Snap," she chortled.

The waitress brought over fresh drinks and took away their discarded glasses.

They needed to take the tension down a notch, they both realised, so they talked about their week, inching closer and closer, unconsciously. Franky regaled Bridget with tales from _The Java_ _Parlour_ , including an incident where a woman called Rain had come in and asked if Franky would be interested in buying rice puddings she had made from her breast milk. Franky told Gidge about supporting Shayne to find his vocation in life, Boomer's x-rated performance with the chocolate éclairs and donut rings (which invoked a delightful snort from Bridget), and the budding romance between Red and Allie. In turn Bridget told Franky of her daily battle with bureaucracy, her dream to get the group therapy outreach programme in correctional facilities state-wide and the promising new recruit who had just joined the office. She spoke of the flowers she had just planted in her garden, Vera's impending motherhood and her concerns for her friend.

It was all so effortless. Their conversation flowed easily and was playful and honest and engrossing. Usually Franky was thinking three steps ahead, planning a suitable witty remark, innuendo or flirtatious banter designed to get into a girls pants but with Bridget none of that mattered. She was enjoying herself, enjoying Bridget's charming company, her insights, her wit, her kindness. She didn't need to overthink or present a façade. She just let herself be in the moment. It was liberating and highly addictive.

Bridget noticed the time on one of the clocks behind Franky. They'd been here nearly two hours. Her stomach was on the verge of rumbling. She'd managed to grab an apple and half an energy bar at lunch but that was all.

"You want something to munch on?" Bridget asked innocently, picking-up a food menu.

Franky grinned wolfishly.

Bridget immediately rolled her eyes. "I meant - "

"I know what you meant," Franky laughed.

"You have a very dirty mind, you know that?!" Bridget reproached with absolutely no sting in her tone.

"How am I supposed to keep it out of the gutter with you looking like that?" Franky implored and reached out, her index finger lightly brushing the sliver of exposed skin between Gidge's collarbone and the top of her bodice, where her breasts swelled. She felt Bridget shiver, which bolstered her confidence. Locking eyes with Gidget she leaned forward and placed a feather-light kiss to Bridget's throat and felt the blonde's pulse strum erratically against her lips.

Bridget sighed, all rational thought flying out the window as her body pulsated in response. Thoughts of Franky's fingers on her hot, flushed skin filled her head. The sounds Franky would make as Bridget moved inside her when she took her, and she had every intention of taking her tonight.

"I know this is our first date - " Franky mumbled.

"My place?" Bridget suggested huskily.

Franky beamed and Bridget flagged down their waitress and paid the bill. Then she clasped Franky's hand and led the way to the exit.

* * *

As they walked up the footpath to Bridget's house, Franky was mesmerised by the sinful way Bridget moved in that dress. The glorious way the material hugged every curve and the confident swing of her hips. Oh, Bridget knew exactly what she was doing and it was driving Franky to distraction.

Bridget hastily fitted her key in the lock and turned it. They stepped into the hall and she threw her purse down on the nearest surface. She slipped her jacket off, let it pool on the floor and turned to face Franky.

Bridget's apartment was modern and minimalist. Franky totally dug it - what little she saw of it. She could be excused for being remiss, what with her hands being immediately buried in Bridget's hair as she backed Gidget up against the wall. Franky was vaguely aware of the sound of the front door slamming shut as she took Bridget's face in her hands and covered Bridget's mouth with her own. The kiss felt like an explosion. All that pent-up sexual tension melting away. Franky's lips were demanding as her tongue delved into Bridget's hot and pliant mouth and they crashed into a water painting hanging on the wall. Bridget moaned and gripped Franky tighter, her fingers clutching at Franky's back, making the kiss fiercer, more ardent.

Franky's hands tugged at the green gown, wrenching it up, fingers trailing down the back of the blonde's nylon-clad thighs. Fiery lips pressed against Bridget's throat, heated breaths sending tremor's through them both. Fingernails scrapped up Bridget's inner thighs until they brushed against lacey underwear. Then Franky's knee slipped between Bridget's legs, urging them apart and her muscular thigh pressed forcefully up against Bridget's overheated centre.

Franky hooked her hand round the back of Bridget's left knee and lifted her leg higher, positioning it over her hip, earning a raspy sigh from Bridget. Gidge's fingers grasped Franky's tux jacket, twisting in the fabric, using her grip to urge Franky closer, unable to hold back any longer. Bridget peppered frantic kisses against Franky's throat, felt her swallow hard, felt her heart pound.

Bridget's fraught pants filled Franky's ear as her fingertips grazed the lacey black underwear at the apex of the blonde's thighs, it was the most erotic noise she had ever heard and her nipples hardened in response. Bridget wrapped her arms firmly around Franky's neck, wanting to feel every inch of her. Franky's touch was teasing and then insistent, pushing aside the flimsy fabric of Gidge's underpants and slipping beneath. Bridget groaned as Franky slid her hand between her legs and pressed urgently up into wanton heat. Bridget kissed Franky passionately, unable to focus on anything but the sensation of Franky's body surging against hers.

Bridget tugged at Franky's jacket. Reluctantly Franky broke their kiss and stepped back from her only long enough to slip the jacket off, sending it tumbling somewhere behind her. She ripped her bow tie off and moved back into Bridget's space. Gidget's fingers started eagerly unbuttoning her shirt and tearing at her waist band. Franky's lips crashed into Bridget's again, claiming her mouth, fervent and heady.

Franky's skin burned as Bridget stripped her of her shirt and caressed her exposed ribs. Bridget felt Franky shiver and a thrill thundered through her. She felt powerful and exhilarated and overcome with raw desire.

Franky released a throaty moan as, with the lightest of touches, Bridget's fingers brushed her breasts, once, then twice, her nails scratching over the taut nipples and sending a shudder coursing through the brunette. Franky growled and pressed Bridget harder against the wall. Bridget arched against her, hips canting upwards, desperately wanting friction. Her hands still cupped Franky's breasts and she pinched a nipple, drawing out a startled gasp from Franky. She felt Franky loose her concentration for a moment, her breathing ragged and heavy, and smiled smugly against Franky's mouth as the brunette captured her lips again and continued their bruising exploration.

As Franky's hand slid between them again, cupping Bridget between her legs, Gidge let out a breathy sigh, then pressed her face against Franky's neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, giving herself wholly over to the delicious and overwhelming sensations Franky was eliciting from her body.

Head spinning, Franky pulled back, piercing green eyes boring into Bridget with lustful longing, her breath shallow and uneven. They pressed their foreheads together, sharing the intoxication of the moment. The stormy darkness of Franky's eyes took Bridget's breath away and when Franky slid two fingers inside her, it caught her off-guard. Bridget gasped as Franky thrust into her again and again, finding a frantic rhythm. Franky's left hand tangled in her hair and her right added a third finger and drove relentlessly into Bridget.

Bridget cupped Franky's cheek, drawing her back in to a fiery kiss. Franky rubbed her thumb against Bridget's clit as she pumped her wrist hard. Bridget struggled for breath. Moans tumbled from her lips as an uncontrollable heat coiled in her loins, desire swelling within her. The pressure began to build inside her, blissful and agonising. Bridget's arms tightened around Franky, needing her closer, needing her deeper…

Bridget kissed Franky hard, then bit the brunette's bottom lip. Franky let out a whimper and Bridget's hands skimmed down Franky's sides and fumbled with the flies of Franky's trousers. She unzipped them hastily. Franky's breathing was heavy and her skin alight with want. Bridget slid her hand into Franky's trousers, finding her commando and more than ready for her. Her folds were hot and slick, and she canted her hips encouragingly. Bridget buried her hand between Franky's thighs and began her own ministrations, intent on making Franky scream till she was hoarse.

With her free hand, Bridget grasped Franky's hip and pulled her taut against her, her fingers grinding deliciously into Franky, making her mewl, a torturous pleasure ripping through the brunette.

Franky continued her own assault, fingers burrowing deep inside Bridget. The blonde bucked keenly against her, chasing more contact. Franky felt Bridget shudder, heard her moan, felt her own body react – nerves a jangle and core throbbing. She'd never been so turned on in her life. She was so near…

"Please Franky," Bridget whispered breathlessly in her ear, "I need you… please…"

Any last resolve or restraint Franky had disappeared with that desperate plea.

Mercilessly Franky thrust harder and deeper. Bridget threw her head back, breathless and shuddering. Franky devoured her, lips exploring the column of her throat. Bridget relished every touch. Whimpering her appreciation and returning Franky's thunderous kisses. Her own hand fierce and unrelenting, pushing Franky towards climax. Stroking, coaxing and rutting frantically against her.

Bridget's legs felt weak and heavy as Franky drove harder and faster into her, she could barely breathe, it was so exquisitely overwhelming. Her fingernails dug into Franky's hip, felt the taut muscles move beneath her hand, felt the sheen of sweat on Franky's smooth skin. Bridget's head fell back against the wall and her mouth opened in a silent cry as she felt the tension rising and building.

Franky's head slumped forward on Bridget's shoulder as Bridget hit a sweet spot inside her. Bridget panted as a sharp rush of pleasure burst through her, wracked her body and sent her flying over the edge. As her orgasm was unleashed, Bridget's eyes went wide and she let out a high-pitched cry as she screamed Franky's name. Franky's entire body shook and then went rigid as she climaxed. Back arched, pressing further into Bridget, taking her fingers deeper inside and letting out a guttural moan.

Bridget gasped for breath and Franky smiled, hooded-eyes taking in the flushed and dishevelled appearance of her lover, her entire body tingling at how ravaged she looked and feeling utterly pleased with herself.

They were both slack and boneless. It took several moments to recover, then they disentangled themselves and fell, exhausted, into Bridget's bed.

* * *

They had fallen asleep at some point. They lay naked and tangled together, bodies drained and humming with the fervor of their love-making. Having castoff all their clothing as they tried every sexual position known to woman.

Franky woke with Bridget curled into her. A smile came to her lips as the memory of the last few hours returned and she stroked the warm skin of the arm wrapped around her waist. She glanced at the clock on Bridget's bedside table. It was 3.17am. She'd have to go soon. She didn't want to wake Bridget but she didn't want to leave without saying goodbye either. Didn't want Gidge thinking she was slinking off after their amazing night together.

"You think too much," Bridget mumbled sleepily.

Franky grinned and pulled Bridget closer, nuzzling her nose into Bridget's hair.

"I know you have an early start, it's fine," the blonde murmured, her breath warm against Franky's neck. "I was going to give you an early morning wake-up call, you'd have approved of my methods," she said suggestively.

Franky laughed. "Oh?"

Bridget propped herself up on her elbow, "Yes," she reassured. She reached out and traced Franky's nose, ran her finger across Franky's mouth and down her chin. Bridget tilted her head and pressed a tender kiss to Franky's lips, teasing and sweet.

Her hand continued exploring, slipping down Franky's arm, across her abdomen, then lower and lower, finding Franky still wet and wanting. With an expert brush of her fingers, she had Franky squirming and gasping, hips rising, pressing against Bridget's demanding fingers.

Franky rolled onto her back, pulling Bridget on top of her. Wanting the weight and heat of Bridget flush against her. Bridget broke their kiss and began to trail open-mouthed kisses down her body, Franky's fingers threaded into her hair, tugging and sighing as Bridget kissed and nipped her way down Franky's body.

As Bridget settled between Franky's legs, they fell further open.

"This is your early morning wake-up call Ms Doyle," Bridget said roguishly. Her fingers gripped the back of Franky's thighs, holding her firmly in place as she dipped her head down and her tongue burrowed deep.

Franky threw an arm over her eyes as Bridget's tongue moved up and flicked ceaselessly over her clit, deliciously rough, and then pressed deep into her core again. As Bridget tasted her, her moans reverberated against Franky's scorched sex, breath skimming her flushed skin, making her come harder. Making her shiver and shake and fall apart.

Afterwards Bridget whispered sweet nothing's into her ear, hands caressing her molten skin until she came down and gazed adoringly into Bridget's bright blue eyes.

* * *

At 5am Franky dragged herself into _The_ _Java_ _Parlour_. The sun was barely up and she was loathed to leave Bridget's bed but she had no choice.

The coffee shop was mercifully quiet and peaceful first thing. Franky set-up the counter and started-up the coffee machine with a dopey grin on her face. It annoyed Boomer, who was stocking-up the coffee syrups.

"Hey, are you gonna be this fuckin' smug every time you get laid?" Boomer asked.

Franky shrugged helplessly. "Probably."

"Oh man," Boomer groaned.

Franky looked at her friend. Her whole face glowing. "I think I'm in love Booms."

"For real?" Boomer asked, incredulous. This was way more serious than she'd thought. She thought once Franky banged Bridget, she'd get it out of her system and stop mooning over the blonde and then she'd get her friend back. She was right royally fed-up of the distracted, loved-up mess that was Franky these days.

"Yeah. Gidge is it for me."

"That's sad," Boomer said seriously. "You're like a chick magnet and now you're gonna be neutered. You have your choice of hotties and you're gonna give it up for - "

"The best thing that ever happened to me," Franky said happily.

"Wow," Boomer said. "You're fucked."

"Yeah," Franky agreed.

Boomer smiled reluctantly. "Good on ya, just… don't let her interfere with stuff between us or I'll have to clout her."

Franky nodded solemnly. "Understood."

Boomer smiled. She was happy for Franky, she just thought Bridget was a bit too… uppity. But she'd find a way to tolerate the bitch as long as she didn't step out-of-line or hurt her bezzie lezzie mate.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Java Parlour – Part 8**

Franky's morning-after buzz lasted until lunch time. Allie teased her mercilessly, Bea tried to drag details out of her and Shayne was already planning the wedding. Even Boomer had dropped the attitude and every time she walked past Franky, wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and asked if it was true that the bigger a shrinks couch, the bigger their… All that came screeching to a halt when Joan Ferguson stormed into _The Java Parlour_ at midday.

The statuesque woman marched up to the counter where Shayne was serving and waved a prospectus from one of the tech colleges he had applied to in the air. It must've arrived in the post while he was at work.

"What's this?" Ferguson demanded as she thumped the offending prospectus on the counter.

Shayne paled while Franky's anger reared its head.

"I was thinking of… uh, I mean… I want to… um…" Shayne floundered.

Franky stepped beside him, looking Aunty Joan directly in the eye. "Unless I'm mistaken that was sent to Shayne, not you."

Ferguson turned her gaze on Franky, eyes appraising and scornful. "We have no secrets."

"It's against the law to open mail addressed to someone else," Franky pointed out confrontationally.

Ferguson's beady eyes held a flicker of amusement. "I have every right to know if my only nephew is planning on throwing his life away on a menial course and a mediocre career, don't you?"

"It's ultimately Shayne's decision. He's the one who has to live with his choices."

"I made a promise to his mother," Ferguson said coolly. "And I intend to keep it."

"Mum would've wanted me to be happy," Shayne finally found his voice.

Ferguson's eyes snapped back to Shayne, startled and displeased.

Franky beamed proudly at the lad.

"She wouldn't want you wasting your potential," Ferguson retorted.

He shrugged. "I'm not wasting it, I'm fulfilling it."

Ferguson glared at Franky. "This is your doing I take it? Filling his head with nonsense. I'll thank you to keep out of the matter from now on."

Franky didn't back-down one iota. She'd dealt with bullies like Joan Ferguson all her life and they didn't scare her. "I will continue to support Shayne in whatever way he needs. I don't take orders from you and, since we're on the matter, I think your handling of this situation has been piss poor."

Ferguson's cold glare turned more deadly. A dangerous smile tugged at her lips. "Tread carefully Ms Doyle," she threatened in a cool and firm voice.

They held each other's gaze. Sizing each other up.

"Aunty Joan, designing and building furniture is what I'm good at, it's what I enjoy and it's what I want to do when I leave school," Shayne said, impassioned. "Franky was just helping me pick a course, that's all."

"We'll talk about this at home," Aunty Joan said in a tone that made it very clear she'd bulldozer him into doing whatever she wanted. She picked-up the prospectus and tucked in under her arm, then turned on her heel.

"No!" Shayne yelled.

Ferguson stopped in her tracks and spun round to face him. She was glaring now, momentarily losing her calm façade. "What?" she hissed.

Franky felt Shayne shake beside her.

"There's nothin' to talk about, it's been decided," he stated.

Ferguson was positively seething. "We will talk about this at home," she repeated and swiftly departed.

Shayne sagged against the counter.

Franky put her arm about his shoulders. "Well done mate," she said. "That was the hard part."

He gave her a half-smile and shook his head sadly. "You don't know Aunty Joan. That was round one. She'll keep going until she gets her own way."

Franky looked sympathetic. "Once you start the course she can't do anything."

Shayne nodded but didn't look convinced.

* * *

Bea and Allie had exchanged several text messages over the course of the week in order to finalise arrangements. Allie had kindly booked tickets for Bea and her entire family for the opening night of the _Drama Queen's_ Am Dram production of _Wicked._ As if Red wasn't smitten enough, Allie had then dismissed any attempt Bea made to pay for said tickets.

 _I couldn't possibly let u fork out 4 the tix's. How much do I owe u? Bea x_

To which Allie had diplomatically replied: _They're on the company. I'm allowed 6 comps. No1 in their right mind, besides u, wants 2 come! It's my pleasure. Allie x_

Saturday was opening night and Allie offered to give Bea and her daughter a grand tour of the theatre in the afternoon. Bea had gladly accepted, looking forward to it (mostly for the chance to spend time with Allie). It had been planned for over a week when, on Saturday morning, Debbie declared she was spending the day with friends and not "going on some lame tour" as she flounced out of the house.

At first Bea was disappointed in her daughter but this was quickly overtaken by nerves at the prospect of being alone with Allie all afternoon. What if she didn't know what to say? What if they had nothing in common? Then, for a brief moment, she considered making-up an excuse and cancelling. She was halfway to reaching for her phone when she stopped. She really wanted to see the blonde. Even now, just thinking about Allie made her smile, made her stomach flip in a way it hadn't for years. She wanted to explore those feelings, see where they led, see if they were reciprocated.

So at 1pm Bea found herself outside the stage door of _The Footlights Theatre_ , smiling in greeting at Allie. The blonde was clad in her sexy shorts, a white camisole and paint spattered hoodie again. _That outfit is indecent_ , Bea decided as her eyes drank in the view, the butterflies in her stomach returning full-force.

"Hey you," Allie purred.

"Hi," Red replied, suddenly nervous. "I'm flying solo this arvo, something came up and Debs couldn't make it. I'm really sorry."

"That's alright. I'm sure we'll manage unchaperoned," Allie teased.

Bea gave her a shy smile and tucked a loose curl of unruly red hair behind her ear.

Allie chivalrously held the stage door open. As Bea stepped into the dimly lit corridor, she brushed past Allie and found herself holding her breath, skin tingling pleasantly. She'd never had this reaction to anyone before, it was most unsettling… in an amazing and terrifying way.

"The cast are having a dress rehearsal, they've broken for lunch but you'll get to see a bit of live action when they come back. So, until then, let's start the backstage grand tour!" Allie declared as she let the door swing shut.

She led Bea to the wings area first, showing her the mechanics of it all. Including the fly tower, which, Allie explained, was the space above the stage which held the rigging and pulleys that allowed the stage crew to make scenery changes. They passed a few of the stage crew arranging props, all of whom had a ready smile and friendly word for Allie and her guest.

Next Allie took Bea to the costume room where a team of three were busily sowing Glinda's costume and a fourth was fitting one of the supporting actors.

"Who's your girlfriend?" a middle-aged man dressed as a flying monkey teased.

"Jealous Keith?"

The costume woman sowed the final button on his waistcoat and plonked a small black fez on his head.

"Be gentle with me Allie. I'm a grown man dressed like a monkey. I have very low self-esteem."

She laughed.

Keith looked at Bea and grinned, indicating Allie. "This one's a keeper."

Bea felt herself blush.

"Alright saddo, go find your flea infested mates," Allie joked. "Thanks for biggin' me up. I'll give you that $20 later."

"Righto!" he laughed as he headed out of the room.

One of the costume team then kindly showed Bea a bunch of costumes from previous productions that hung on a rack at the back of the room.

Following that Allie gave her a tour of the technician's box, where lighting and sound were controlled. Bea was amazed at the amount of switches, panels and the insanely long list of cues. She was immensely impressed and had a new found admiration for technicians.

When they walked onto the stage the floorboards creaked and the houselights were up. Bea glanced about the auditorium, it was humbling and daunting and magical.

"This is amazing," Bea murmured. She turned and gave Allie a luminescent smile. "Thank you."

Allie smiled. "Yeah, it's pretty awesome." She reached out and took Bea's hand, gently tugging her. "Come on."

Once in the wings Allie took her down a winding staircase which led underneath the stage and into one of the dressing rooms. The room was filled with the actors personal touches, flowers and good luck cards. Everyone they bumped into was friendly and accommodating and full of tales of the theatre and previous productions.

They picked-up some sandwiches and a bottle of fizz Allie had reserved at the theatre bar. Then she and Red sat in the audience, row H, and ate their sandwiches and sipped their glasses of prosecco.

The actors started coming back from lunch in dribs and drabs and were soon running a full dress rehearsal. Red watched in fascination while Allie leaned in beside her, whispering little titbits of information in her ear and making her giggle. So-and-so wasn't speaking to so-and-so because they had had a one-nightstand and she found out the next day that he was married. So-and-so had had a temper tantrum and got an understudy fired, who was the director's nephew, so they weren't speaking. It was drama city. She and Allie watched with amusement as all the people not speaking to each other tried to negotiate a rehearsal. It was farcical and, Bea found, far more entertaining than the actual performance. As she and Allie laughed together, Bea knew her enjoyment had more to do with Allie's proximity and the thrill that ran through her every time their arms brushed or Allie's warm breath coasted across her skin, rather than the antics onstage.

Allie made everything fun and Bea had little of that in her life. It was a pleasing diversion and one she'd like to continue. With Allie she forgot all the strife at home. Her stroppy daughter, overbearing sister and aging parents faded from her mind. She liked this feeling. Liked their private bubble. Allie was easy to talk to and Bea felt unfettered, as if she could say anything. It was refreshing. Usually she could only speak her mind to Franky and Maxine (a close friend from self-defence class).

And she wasn't imagining the appreciative looks Allie kept giving her, the sexy lilt of her voice or the hooded eyes. It stirred something deep in her belly. Something she thought she'd lost. Ever since the divorce three years ago, Bea's confidence had taken a pounding. Harry had been a control freak and difficult to live with but the night he hit her was the night she left. It had been an awful and violent ending to their marriage but she knew, after he'd attacked her, she couldn't go back.

She'd taken Debbie and stayed with her parents while she contacted a divorce lawyer. Of course Harry had shown up on the doorstep, shouting the odds, pounding on the door, making threats and cursing her. Then crying and pleading followed by more threats as he threw a rock through the window of the front room. Her Dad called the police and Harry was arrested. It didn't improve things between them but it helped her win custody of Debbie.

She'd started to reconstruct her life then, without Harry. Though she still got the occasional phone call in the middle of the night and when she answered, no one spoke but she could hear them breath and she was absolutely certain it was him. Trying to scare her. Shithead.

As Allie leaned in, lips close to her ear, breath warm against her skin, all those horrible memories faded. She was safe and with someone she liked... quite considerably. Allie whispered that the guy playing Fiyero was in fact allergic to the green body paint the actress playing Elphaba was covered in, so every time he kissed Elphaba he had to run off stage and get an allergy shot. This made them fall onto giggles as they watched Fiyero sweep Elphaba up in his arms, kiss her passionately and then hightail it ungracefully off-stage for his shot.

"Why didn't they get someone else to play the part?" Bea asked.

"It's his dream role, he says it's worth the inconvenience of almost dying during every performance."

"Sweet really," Bea said.

Allie grinned. "Never heard anyone call anaphylactic shock 'sweet' before."

Bea rolled her eyes good-humouredly. "I meant it's sweet that he's so passionate about something, so committed. I envy people with that kind of passion in their lives."

Allie's large eyes looked soulful as she gazed at Bea. "You'll have that kind of passion in your life one day."

Bea smiled and dipped her head. "I don't know, I think some people are destined not to."

Allie smiled confidently. "You will."

They finished their sandwiches and most of the bottle of wine, and somehow four glorious hours had gone by. Bea couldn't believe it when she checked her watch.

"I have to go," she said dolefully.

Allie looked equally disappointed but walked her back to the stage door.

"I'll see you tonight?" Bea said hopefully. "You'll come and say hello?"

Allie nodded. "Of course."

"I really enjoyed today, thank you," Bea murmured.

"Me too. We should do it again," Allie said. "I mean hang out - not sit in the theatre gossiping about the cast!"

Bea's smile grew wider. "I'd like that."

A backstage crew member popped their head round the corner. "Allie, the Director's looking for you. Keith's flying wire hook up is too low and he keeps hitting the wall instead of flying out through the window with the rest of the monkeys!"

"Be right there!" Allie bellowed in return. She glanced apologetically at Bea. "Duty calls."

"I'll leave you to it. The last thing you need is a comatose flying monkey on opening night!" Bea teased.

Allie laughed. "I'll see you tonight, Red. I'm looking forward to it."

Bea smiled, liking the sound of her nickname on Allie's lips and the soft look in her eye.

"I'd better go," Bea said but didn't move.

They stood looking at each other for a moment, then Allie brushed aside any reservations and placed a gentle and brief kiss on Bea's lips. When she drew back Bea's eyes were closed and she looked a little dazed but pleasantly surprised.

Bea opened her eyes and gazed up at Allie, a smile breaking across her face.

"Now you can go," Allie whispered.

"See you later," Bea replied breathily and left via the stage door, giving Allie a small wave as she went. Floating on air as she walked towards her car.

* * *

Bridget spent the morning with Vera at her Lamaze class. Jake was doing another double shift at the hospital, which he'd taken last minute, and had to miss the class. Again. Bridget respected his desire to provide for his family but letting Vera down repeatedly was not a promising start. He was so focused on what he considered 'doing his best' that he failed to notice what Vera actually needed from him – support, reliability and for him to share the important moments, such as Lamaze class. Money was vital but not more vital than all the things he was missing.

After the class they had a light and nutritious lunch at Vera's. Bridget cooked, she liked to make a fuss of Vera when she could, Vera rarely let herself be pampered, her self-esteem issues were deeply imbedded but Bridget was slowly helping to weed them out.

On her way home Bridget called into _The Java Parlour_. She sauntered up to the counter and Franky's face lit-up, her smile impossibly wide.

"Hey gorgeous," Franky greeted.

Bridget leaned across the counter and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. Bridget drew back and held Franky's eyes, smile matching her. "I've been thinking about you all day."

"Ditto."

Franky leaned in and kissed Bridget again.

"Ugh, get a room!" Boomer grumbled. "You're making the pastries blush, hey."

Franky rolled her eyes. She took Bridget's hand and guided her towards the kitchen.

"Booms, watch the counter," she called over her shoulder.

"Sure," Boomer said, already eyeing-up the pecan pies. "Take as long as ya need."

Franky led Bridget through the double doors of the kitchen. Once they were alone she cupped Bridget's face, her thumbs brushing the smooth skin of her cheeks. "You look good," she whispered.

"So do you," Bridget replied and tilted her head up to capture Franky's mouth with her own.

Their arms wrapped around each other and Bridget drew Franky tightly against her. Their kisses quickly became desperate and greedy. Franky's hands slid into Bridget's hair and Bridget nipped at Franky's bottom lip with her teeth.

Bridget had been fantasising about Franky all day. In fact, it had led to a rather awkward moment in the Lamaze class when the instructor had led the mothers-to-be through several panting exercises to control their breathing during labour. Bridget had all but squirmed in her seat as the highlights of what she and Franky had got up to last night flashed through her mind.

"Are you alright?" Vera had asked, noticing Bridget's discomfort.

"Fine," Bridget had mumbled, trying desperately to concentrate on what she should be doing and not super-hot thoughts of her new lover.

Vera had pestered her for details of her date over lunch. When Bridget finally caved (coasting over the more intimate aspects) all she'd got was an " _oh my"_ as Vera blushed profusely, which had made Bridget laugh.

Bridget scratched her nails down Franky's back, deepening the kiss. Franky moaned and regretfully drew back, pressing their foreheads together.

"Last night was pretty fuckin' spectacular," Franky said.

Bridget grinned. "It was."

"Anytime you want a repeat performance..."

"Oh, I think that's a given," Gidget murmured, sending a shiver through Franky.

"Are you free now? Can you stick around?" Franky asked.

"I might be persuaded," Bridget said playfully and wrapped her arms about Franky's neck.

Franky quirked an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? What'll it take?"

Bridget pressed a kiss to a sensitive spot just below Franky's ear. "A muffin and a ringside seat to your spectacular arse!"

Franky circled her arms around Bridget's waist and slid her hands lower, over Gidge's haunches and gripped her backside, squeezing and pulling her tauter against her body. Earning her a pleased squeak from Bridget.

"I think that can be arranged," Franky teased and sealed the deal with another kiss.

"Come on," Bridget said as she broke the kiss before they got carried away. She pulled out of Franky's arms. "We'd better get back before Boomer thinks I've kidnapped you."

"I can think of worse fates!" Franky joked as she let Bridget tug her towards the door.

When they returned to the coffee shop counter Boomer was eating a pecan pie. "Wasn't expectin' ya back so soon," she said without a morsel of guilt and sucked the last remnants of golden syrup off her thumb. "But self-control is good ya know, yeah, cos ya shouldn't be gettin' freaky in a food prep area. Hygiene and that."

Bridget moved back to the customer's side of the counter. "Don't worry Boomer, we kept it to a PG rating."

"Barely," Franky winked at her friend.

Boomer shook her head. "Too much info, hey."

Franky laughed.


End file.
